


A Heart Of Ashes

by YollyDelaney2



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses Fusion, Elf Culture & Customs, Elvish, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Light Angst, Magic, No Feyre, Post-A Court of Frost and Starlight, Post-A Court of Mist and Fury, Post-A Court of Wings and Ruin, Pre-A Court of Thorns and Roses, Rhysand (ACoTaR) - Freeform, Sassy, arrogant, dragon - Freeform, reader - Freeform, romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:41:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YollyDelaney2/pseuds/YollyDelaney2
Summary: Rhysand isn't that handsome, smolder High Lord. No. He's more than that. In unknown universe he's taken the form of a fire-breathing dragon with a little tough temper. He survives a battle, but only barely. A black arrow digs deep into his chest as he flees without choice. He takes refuge in a cave miles away from the field, where he lays down and waits for death to claim him. It is as he is clinging to the last threads of life that a gentle-eyed woman stumbles upon him. Arrogant even in death, Rhysand thinks little of her but will that change?
Relationships: Rhysand & Reader, Rhysand (ACoTaR) & You, Rhysand (ACoTaR)/You, Rhysand / Reader
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

A crack of thunder ripped through the thick grey clouds, a flash of lightning following and briefly illuminating the blackened sky. Just as the echo of the previous grumble of thunder passed, another would take its place, vibrating the land below it. The rain poured down like metal spears, clashing with the landscape like a million tiny bullets. All living creatures had taken shelter from the storm, even those who preferred the damper weather. Large puddles had begun to form in the muddy ground, the rivers, lakes, and ponds rapidly filling to the point of overflow. Night had fallen not too long ago, and with the moonlight being shrouded by the thick clouds, seeing was close to impossible through the bucketing rain. Not a single sign of life could be seen for miles.

All but one.

He soared through the pouring rain and harsh winds, staying low in case anyone had their eyes out for the skies. Thunder rolled above him, and every now and then a flash of lightning would cast ominous shadows over the land, silhouetting his body in the sky. Every so often he would give a couple flaps of his powerful wings to gain some altitude when he descended too close to the ground, but other than that he stuck to soaring, avoiding too much movement if he could help it. And he had his reasons. The deadly black arrow that jutted haphazardly from his left breast was explanation enough for anything that may have spotted him flying passed.

Rhysand fought to maintain his breathing as he soared through the drenched air, but the pain flaring in his chest was making that task difficult. His breaths had gradually turned into nearly ragged heaving as his huge wings carried him farther and farther from the battle field, where he had been struck with what should have been an instantly fatal blow to the heart by a black arrow, which had been fired by a elf-like he now wished to kill in the most creative of ways. But there had been no time for that. After he had destroyed nearly the entire army of repulsive elf-like bastards, he had suddenly felt an explosive agony as the arrow pierced him, and the next thing he had been toppling into the bloody ground. The pain had been, and still was, like nothing he had ever felt in his life. He did not know how he wasn't dead right that very moment, but he knew that would soon change.

He had remained still for a few minutes or so, having been immobilized by the pure agony of the arrow, but when the bastards had begun to cautiously gather he knew he must force himself up, or else one or more of them would have finished the job. They'd run forth and drive the arrow the rest of the way into his chest once they saw he was still alive. So, he had gathered his strength, and a chorus of horrified screams and exclamations had rung throughout the surviving bastards when he had suddenly sprung to life. Clumsily, he had climbed to the top of one of the rocks, letting out a roar of pain when he had jostled the arrow, and he had spread wings. It had been over an hour since then, and he had nearly reached his limit, his breaths having grown ragged. That wasn't the only source of pain. Somehow, his left wing had been torn during the fall, and the skin was bleeding, but it wouldn't bleed him out. The arrow would do that on its own.

By the time he had been flying a little passed an hour, he was fighting to remain conscious. His head bowed in the air, facial features wincing as he felt the arrow deep in his body. He decided to land closer to the mountains, finally satisfied with the distance he had put between himself and the field. Even if they dared to hunt him down, they wouldn't find him probably for weeks. It wasn't heartbeats later he spotted a large rock formation below, and he realized it was a cave. It would have to do.

He landed carefully in the open, grassy area, which was surrounded by thick trees. His feet sunk into the ground under his weight, the soil having softened from the merciless onslaught of rain, and it took all he had in him not to collapse right there. His steps were heavy as he entered the empty cave. Finally out of the harsh weather outside, he turned around to face the cave's mouth before he practically collapsed against the wall, careful to lay partially on his side so the arrow wouldn't be driven in by the ground. His chest heaved with every ragged gulp of air, each breath feeling like his body was being torn apart from the inside out. Damn those bastards who tried to kill him. Damn them all!

Feeling as if his entire being was made of lead, he managed to lift his head long enough to look back at his body, where the arrow jutted from his breast. Panting, he fell back to the ground soon after, exhausted and quite utterly spent. There was no denying it. Even he couldn't lie to himself about his chances of surviving. He could feel it—like a parasite eating away at his heart. The arrow's head had tore through the very outer walls of his heart, if not further in. It was a wondrous miracle he wasn't dead yet. Despite himself, his dismay overwhelmed his desire to feel rage and seek revenge, and he closed his eyes, a sense of defeat washing over him.

It was only a matter of time.

Unbeknownst to Rhysand, if he had flown just a couple miles further, he would have come across a home. Said farm's owner had been on her way home from a hunt. She rode atop a stunning white horse with a silver mane and tail, her dark blue hood shielding her head from the downpour. The weather had been less than kind that day, and both she and her horse were soaked to the bone. Her dark hair stuck to her porcelain face where it had gotten wet, her hood clinging to her figure from being wet. She had taken her usual path home, crossing over the bridge and following the stream to the cave, which marked the two mile mark to her home. However, that say she was destined for a startling surprise.

A short, startled sound escaped her lips when her horse suddenly jerked to a stop in the middle of the clearing before the cave, digging the heels of his hooves into the muddy ground. She held on fast, pulling back on the rains as the animal clotted about, seeming restless.

"What is it, Altivo?" she asked.

She held onto the rains and shushed the horse as it reared in the air, releasing a shrill whinny.

"Easy! What is it, boy?" Lifting her head, she looked towards the cave, which seemed to be the source of the animal's alarm. Her eyebrows creased together slightly when she saw something strange leading into the cave's mouth.

Having decided to investigate, she had tied her horse to a tree growing outside the cave, and she walked towards the odd indentations she had spotted in the mud. Once she was close enough, she looked down, and her eyes widened. Footprints. Large footprints. She stared at them for what seemed like an hour, before her head finally lifted very slowly towards the cave, her lips having parted a small fraction. No existing force in the world could have explained her actions to her, as she found herself walking towards the cave.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she reached the cavern's mouth, even though she had known what she would find. She had merely been hoping the creature had left by now, even though there were no tracks leading out. The moment she had cautiously peeked her head around the corner, she had merely caught a glimpse of the head before withdrawing quick as the lightning that flashed in the sky. All it took was a second's glance for her to know that she was not only looking at a dragon, but the Mighty Rhysand.

Suddenly, the large indigo eyes opened, and she nearly choked on her own spit.

Turning, she made a mad dash back to her horse, but a sudden noise from the cave caused her to stop dead in her tracks. A low, hollow moan had emitted from the dragon, but it was not one of awakening. What had stopped her was the almost wounded way it sounded. It was then a thousand questioned sprung into her head. Rhysand had not left his lair since he had claimed it as his—what seemed like a millennium ago. Why had he left, and what was he doing a mere two miles from her home? Dragons did not commonly leave their treasure hordes except to hunt, but he had traveled a far too long of a distance just to be hunting.

Her mind traveled back to the moan, which had made him sound much like a wounded animal. The pieces then began to slowly put themselves together. If he was going to kill her, he would have been out and after her by now. Turning back, she looked towards the cave with narrowed eyes.

Once again, she approached the cave, and when she peeked in for a second time she saw the dragon had not moved an inch. His eyes were closed again. But that was strange. She was certain he had seen her. The narrow pupil had looked directly at her. Since his guard appeared to be off, she took the chance to look him over and slowly stepped a little further into the cave, ready to bolt if the need be. He was utterly massive. His hide was covered in the strong scaled of a dragon, carbon grey in color with a lighter underbelly. Wedged into his skin, she realized there were small gemstones and diamonds embedded into the softer flesh. So the rumors were true. Her eyes traveled up his tail, over the muscular back legs, and over his sleek back, before she came to a stop on his right wing when she saw the blood. It wasn't gushing, but it had dripped from a painful-looking tear in the canvas-like skin. Only briefly did she wonder what had caused the injury, before her eyes landed on the arrow that was sticking out from his left breast.

She drew in a quick breath. Just the sight of it was enough to freeze her breath in her throat. A moment later, she realized it was a black arrow. What on Nebula... Then it all began to piece together. Something must have happened to make him leave the lair and attack the intruders. Only a few black arrows had ever been made, but one of them must have ended up in the wrong hands.  
A sudden, low rumble made her freeze where she stood. Slowly, she turned her body to look back towards his head, and her blood ran cold when she saw his eyes were opened, and they were focused directly on her. They practically glowed in the dim moonlight, piercing straight through her soul with a celestial fire. However, after a moment of staring back at him she could tell he was weakened from his wounds, for his stare was not as fierce as it could have been. She was not presented with the haughty, sadistic grin she had expected, like a cat eyeing its prey. Rather, he seemed almost confused in a sense, like he was trying to figure out where she came from. Then he flinched suddenly and seemed to shift ever so slightly, like a sharp pain had just coursed through him. This caused her eyes to once again shift back towards the arrow. Just looking at it made her own heart clench with a dull pain.

He was wounded—badly—and it showed clearly in his stare. The Rhysand she knew would have been taunting her and getting ready to lunge, but he hadn't even so much as lifted his head off the cave floor. It occurred to her he was very weakened—possibly even dying. That didn't sit well with her. Dangerous or not, it physically pained her to see any living creature suffer. She knew she should leave while she had the chance, but instead she once again found herself walking straight towards the threat, as she took a slow step towards his head. This earned her a sharp look and a low, guttural sound, which clearly served as a warning. She held her hands up as a sign of peace.

"Steady… steady,…" she soothed, hands held up before her in a calming manner as she slowly approached him. "I'm not going to hurt you." Slowly reaching back, she pulled down her hood, and he was met with a pair of kind green eyes. Her eyes watched his closely, as he gave her a distrusting, less-than-forthcoming stare. On a normal day, she knew he would have rolled his eyes at her words—it would have been ridiculous she thought herself a threat—but he was weak and couldn't risk jostling the spear in his chest, so she knew he was wary of her. "How long has that spear been in?" she asked softly, surprising him at how calm and quiet her voice was.

He eyed her carefully for a long moment, not answering her right away. He was precautious of this woman. One glance at her ears told him she was elvish—or at least partially so, and elves were not particularly fond of his kind. In all honesty, he was not particularly fond of their kind either, but he was in no position to fight. Even a simple snap of the jaws would send ripples of pain throughout his entire body, and he knew the spear had penetrated his heart by just the tip. He had made it worse by flying, but he had been left with no choice. Now, even the slightest error in movement could mean instantaneous death, a thought that terrified him to no end. He did not want to die, but he did not see any way to avoid it. He was growing weaker by the minute. Without some sort of miracle, he knew he wouldn't make it through the night.

"Rhysand."

His eyes shifted back to her, faintly surprised at hearing her speak his name. It didn't surprise him, really, that she knew who he was. Few did not. Her eyes were stern, but they held no risk.

"How long has the arrow been in place?" she asked him once more. "Tell me."

He blew a puff of air from his nostrils. "Why should I answer to you?"

His voice was anything but obnoxious. So appealing and so potent.

"What, pray tell, did you do to get yourself in this situation?" she asked. Her tone was not accusing or sarcastic in any way, her green eyes solid and serious. "I know who you are," she said, voice low. "And I know what kind of arrow it is. What happened?" 

Rhysand eyed her for a moment, before he shifted his eyes away, silent. He did not have to answer to this spit of a creature. If it had been a different day, he would have engulfed her in flames by now and be done with her, but his wounded heart would not allow such an action at the moment. Attempting to breathe fire was a guaranteed way to commit suicide. He was tired and in pain, and the last thing on his mind was explaining himself to some mere, insignificant She-Elf. However, his fading attention abruptly shifted back to the small female when he felt her presence near his chest. In a flash, his head was lifting towards her, and before he thought about it he went to swipe her away, but he hadn't planned his movements wisely. His hand hit the spear by accident. He released a roar of pain, the woman having recoiled violently when his body gave a harsh jerk.

"Be still, dragon!" She snapped, alarm in her voice and eyes as she watched the arrow jostle dangerously.

He was panting hard, ripples of pain heating his entire body. Nothing else around him mattered at that moment other than keeping still as stone and riding out the pain. He hadn't even realized the woman had left the cave until he heard the sound of a horse's hooves thundering against the wet ground outside. For a moment she remained in his mind, her kind, strangely unafraid eyes looking at him in faint awe. If it were a regular day, he would have found her fascinating, but his mind was trapped in a painful haze. So, he allowed his eyes to drift shut once again, allowing his mind to drift off into the tempting darkness. He wasn't sure how long he laid there, listening to the raindrops assaulting the ground, and the thunder rumbling overhead, as he slipped further and further into the darkness. Yet, he fought the oh-so-tempting urge to allow his body to give into the exhaustion wearing at his beat system. Death was not something he had ever been well prepared for, and it was only when he was presented with it he realized how terrified he was of the thought, but it was unavoidable at this point. He would die there in that cave, but even that was better than falling where those damned bastards could see. At the very least, he had escaped so he could pass in peace.

Or so he thought. His departing mind was aroused when he became vaguely aware of something moving under his chin, where the armor was softer. The sensation was faint, but it caught his attention when a soft voice spoke. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when the voice continued to gently coax him to open his eyes, he finally did.

It was the She-Elf.

For the first moment or so all he did was stare at her in blank disbelief. She had returned. Why? A short glance behind her revealed to him that she had brought back a wagon of supplies, and it registered in his mind that she must live somewhere nearby. She couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. The draft horse that pulled the wagon whinnied and pawed at the ground nervously at being so close to the massive dragon, but a few kind, gentle reassurances from the She-Elf put the animal at ease.

The woman turned her head back to the ever weakening dragon, her eyes moving over his huge frame once more. His ribcage rose and lowered with each shallow, painful breath, and other than that the rest of his body was completely still. She had been gone for less than an hour, forty minutes tops, and he already looked weaker, eyes barely half open as he stared at the pouring rain outside. She'd heard many stories about him, many holding details of his superiority complex. Rhysand the Magnificent, the Impenetrable, the Tremendous, the Stupendous, the Nightmare…. His power and arrogance were hardly in small amount, but tonight she was presented with a different creature. This dragon was weakened, tired, and in pain—drawn into himself as he struggled to keep his dark blue eyes open. Poor beast. Despite his record, she felt sympathy for him, and she had found herself galloping hurriedly back to her farm where she had rushed to pack various supplies into a wagon. Her mind had been split two ways as she rode back towards the cave, one urging her to help him, while the other screamed at her to leave him be. It was half expected he would be dead when she returned, but when she discovered he was still clinging to life she had made the final decision.

Rhysand didn't move as he listened to her rustle about in the wagon, throwing down wood for a fire and taking out a large bucket filled with some type of leaves. He grew only slightly curious when he saw her remove a bundle of something wrapped in a cloth, but he did not comment on it. It wasn't worth wasting what energy he had left. His half opened eyes watched her suspiciously when she turned to face him, and she walked up to his head. It amazed him how fearless she seemed to be of him. 

How he wished he could change that right then.

What she did next, however, took him completely off guard, as she lifted her hands and placed one on his snout while the other stroked a smooth trail up the bridge of his face, much like the affectionate way a rider would pet his horse. Her eyes didn't meet his, instead having trained themselves on studying her hands as they gently stroked his skin as if to comfort him. It shocked him into stillness. Her face was soft and kind, green eyes holding not a speck of disdain or maliciousness, which is what he would have expected from anyone who caught him in such a vulnerable position. If he hadn't been so confused, he would have snapped his jaws at her for laying a hand on him, and he had a feeling she knew he would.

It was then he decided he couldn't hold back the urge to ask her any longer. His eyes studied her face closely, when finally he opened his mouth to speak.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes lifted to his at last, and after a moment the smallest and gentlest of smiles slowly spread across her full lips.

"I'm going to save you."


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't sure what to think as he watched her walk to where the spear was lodged in his chest in order to examine it. Perhaps he had heard her wrong, his fading consciousness having begun to play tricks with his mind. Perhaps, even, the She-Elf herself was merely an image his hazy brain had created, taunting him with the shred of hope he now found himself clinging to. This woman was hardly able to stand at eyelevel with him, and yet she claimed capable of saving his life. Either she was some sort of sorceress, or he was losing his wits.

"I know you doubt me."

His eyes shifted to her as she spoke.

"I know you think very little of me," she continued. "And I know, that if it were a different day, you would have killed me by now without much of a thought." She looked over her shoulder at him. "And yet here we are. It matters not what you think of me, because when it all comes down to it I am the one thing standing between you and certain death."

He was silent save for a disdainful snort, but she saw passed it. His eyes were what gave him away. Just by looking into their depths, she could tell he had lost hope before she had even arrived, but a small spark of that hope had returned when she had claimed she could save him. She could see the thought of dying frightened him, and she took pity on him. It seemed even the most perilous of beasts could feel helpless when faced with a force that was beyond their power, and amidst the harsh glare he was sending her she could see it. A cry for help, although faint. It was not in her nature to ignore the silent plea. She walked up to his head once again, eyes calm and giving off a sense of reassurance as she lifted her hand to place it on his scaled cheek.

"Know I will require your full trust. I realize you do not know me in the slightest, but what I am about to do… it is essential you do exactly as I say."

He eyed her long and hard. 

"What will you do?" He asked reluctantly.

"First I will remove the arrow. It will be painful, but I have good hands. As long as you remain still, it will be a clean removal. If you should struggle against me, the tip may very well tear into your heart. Once the arrow is out, I will have to reach into the wound and plant this inside you." She held up the bundle from the wagon and peeled back the cloth to reveal a shimmering blue stone. It was about the size of an orange, and it appeared to almost glow in the dim lighting. He eyed the jewel curiously, and for a moment he felt the greed settle in, but before he could marvel for long the cloth was thrown back over the gem.

"Your heart has been pierced, and without my help you will not survive the night," she continued, regaining his attention. "This stone will prevent you from bleeding out, but nothing more. However, your heart will have to heal itself, and you will have to allow it." Her eyes were firm, but they still maintained a gentleness he couldn't understand for the life of him. There was an undeniable air of authority about her, and although he wasn't sure why, he trusted her word. What choice did he have other than to put faith her? He could feel it. He was fading fast, and if he didn't allow her to touch him he would surely die.

With that last thought, he inhaled one last painful breath and blew it out through his nostrils in a defeated sigh, "Fine."

She nodded. "I'm warning you… this will not be pleasant. I need you to do your absolute best to remain still. The slightest error could mean death for you."

With that, she walked over to the arrow. He shifted his head a bit so he could watch her, and he fought not to move away when she reached up. Her hands curled around the harsh weapon, and his entire body tensed as he felt it move slightly within him, his eyes squeezing shut as he prepared himself for the pain that was to come.

"Here we go. Three… two… one." With one firm, smooth yank, the arrow was ripped from his body, and as expected he released a roar of pain . "Stay still," she instructed him firmly, having to raise her voice so he would hear her over his loud bellow. Panting, he saw her remove the glowing blue stone, and she placed a hand near his wound. "Lower your body down for me," she directed him, keeping her voice calm. Although he wanted to strike her for the pain she had caused him, he knew now was no time, and he did as she ordered so she could reach his wound. Once more she counted down from three, and if he had thought the pain of the arrow had been horrible, he was nowhere near prepared for the agony that was yet to come.

Rhysand was first aware of her reaching into the wound, but the burning agony that followed knocked the air clean out of him. The horse reared and whinnied wildly as the roars echoed throughout the cave, the only thing keeping it from running off with the entire wagon being the rope that tied it to one of the rock formations. Rhysand's body had given a harsh jerk against the pain, and in result he heard the woman snap at him in alarm.

"Be still!"

His claws dug deep marks into the cave's floor as they clawed and dragged for something to grip onto. His whipped to the side, and it slammed into the cave's walls, causing them to vibrate violently and crack. A few pebbles and pieces of rock fell from the ceiling, but the woman at his side seemed not to notice. Her focus was set entirely on her task. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Rhysand, she withdrew her arm, the stone no longer in her grasp. Her arm was slick with his blood, but she paid it no mind as she rushed back over to the wagon where the bucket of leaves sat. They had been crushed into a paste, and he barely had time to catch his breath before she began to spread the pasty leaves onto his wound. The juices from the plants stung and irritated the open nerves, but he said nothing in complaint. She had begun to utter soft reassurances, her voice quiet, calm, and soothing. It had become apparent she was some sort of healer, as she chanted something in what he assumed to be an Elvish language while pressing the leaves into the tender flesh.

"Steady, Rhysand," she said, as he shifted uncomfortably. "The worst is over. Just focus on breathing now. Breathe..."

His body continued to lower and rise with each quick, short pant, his breaths having once again grown shallow as he fought to regain control of his breathing. His lungs ached, and his entire body felt as if it were bathing in acid. Beside him, the woman had at last finished tending to his chest, and she was now standing under and examining his torn wing with careful eyes. It should be treated, but she did not have the proper materials to tend to that particular injury, having only packed what she needed to treat his heart. That was okay. She could wait a day and return with some sealant. As for right now, Rhysand needed time to rest. Poor brute. It was almost depressing how his muscles trembled and quivered from pain and exhaustion, causing his entire body to shake subtly like a shivers. Other than that, he was completely limp, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. His nostrils were flared, taking in as much air as they could, while his injured heart slowed back down to a regular beat. Despite the agony he had gone through that night, luck was clearly on his side. She had not told him so, but she had known there was a fair chance he wouldn't have survived what she had done. It was a fifty-fifty shot, but he had managed to withstand the strain. In result, however, it had taken a terrible toll on his already exhausted body, leaving him motionless and withdrawn into himself on the cave floor. So, she let him be and went to wash off her hands in arms, which were covered in blood and paste from the leaves. Then she started a fire with the wood she had brought, allowing him to rest and recover his strength. She would camp there for the night, not feeling at all comfortable with leaving him alone.

Hours later, dawn was approaching. The sun would begin to show itself over the horizon within the next couple of hours. She sat leaned against Rhysand's neck, having not allowed herself the privilege of sleep. He had not moved a single inch since she had treated him, and it was starting to concern her a bit. At the very least, he should have been able to keep his eyes open, but he appeared just as, if not more weak than he had been before. She feared the arrow had been lodged deeper than they had estimated. Every half hour she would arouse him to ensure he did not fall into too deep of a sleep, having explained to his irritated grumbles that the heart slows when asleep, and he needed to remain awake just for that night. He was barely able to keep his eyelids halfway up, and his breathing was shallow. Her worry had grown steadily over the course of the fifth hour, and at one point she had stood up and walked up to his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It was a slow, steady beat, but it was a bit too sluggish for her liking. Having made the decision some time ago, she walked back to his head and placed her hand on the softer flesh below his chin, which she had discovered he could feel more than her hands on his scales. The indigo orbs opened at her touch, and the slit black pupil shifted to her. He could see it in her eyes that she was not at ease.

"Do not speak. I'm going to get you help. Don't try moving while I'm gone."

His gaze followed her as she jumped onto the horse bareback and set out from the cave at a full gallop. She rode swiftly into the forest, not pausing for any obstacle, directing the large horse to leap clear over anything in their path. It took her nearly an hour to reach the waterhole, which was located deep into the forest, hidden by thick willows that loomed over and around the area. She dismounted her horse and stepped into the clearing, where her eyes searched silently for a moment. After a moment of seeing no sign, she closed her eyes and opened her mind.

_Please._

She kept her eyes closed, until after a few minutes she was finally rewarded with the sound of footsteps. From the thick willows, a stunningly beautiful white unicorn emerged from behind the rocks, the horn atop its head glinting with a mystical shine. Her coat was sleek as white silk, eyes a striking crystal blue. Its hooves clotted softly against the ground as it walked around the pond's bank to where she stood. Unicorns were extremely private creatures, but she had taken the chance of leaving Rhysand to find the creatures for their healing powers. Holding her hand out, she waited, and after a moment the creature dipped its head and allowed her to touch its muzzle. Once again luck proved to be on her side. It was not often she had encountered the magnificent horses, and this would be the first time she ever requested anything from them that included them leaving their forest. But she needed to try. Her eyes met the horse's crystal orbs, silently pleading.

_I need your help._

"Rhysand?" She leapt off her horse and tied him to the rock once more before rushing over to the dragon. His eyes were closed, and his breathing had grown dangerously shallow. "Rhysand, wake up. Wake up!" She shoved his head as best she could with his immense weight, but she was able to rouse him. Slowly, his dark blue eyes blinked open, and she didn't like how they looked at her. Just by looking at his eyes she could tell he was losing the battle. "Please." She turned to the unicorn, which had entered the cave a moment after her. "He's dying."

Rhysand's eyes rolled towards who she was talking to, and he appeared to perk up at seeing the unicorn standing at the cave's mouth. So that was where she had run off to. The majestic horse walked around the woman and cautiously approached his wound.

"She is here to help," she reassured him.

Bowing her head, the angelic horse touched her horn to his wound ever so lightly, and then it began to glow a light blue. Before her eyes, the great dragon's breathing began to even out, returning back to a more healthy pace. His eyes regained a little more life, and they watched as the unicorn approached the She-Elf after withdrawing its horn. He stared silently, watching as she held her palm out under the creature's muzzle in thanks. It was a sight to behold, even to him. Anyone who knew anything about unicorns knew how rare they were, and how a sighting was even rarer. And yet here this woman was, bringing one back to the cave with her. It seemed she was full of surprises. Once the unicorn had taken back to the forest, she approached him again, smiling softly.

"You'll be fine now as long as you cooperate with me until you are fully healed."

A low, almost guttural sound emitted from his throat.

"You have alliance with the unicorns?" He asked with quiet curiosity.

"They're very private, guarded creatures. Luck was on your side tonight, Rhysand. I was not sure I would be able to track one down… never mind convince one of them to help you."

He stared at her for a long time. Wonder lingered in his untamed orbs.

"What is your name, little lamb?" He asked her inquisitively.

Her eyes remained locked with his.

"Y/N."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, sometime around noon, Y/N was reapplying the leaves on Rhysand's wound while the dragon slept. He had only opened one eye to see what she was doing before closing it again, uninterested. The previous night had left him utterly exhausted, but at the very least his breathing had evened out, and he no longer looked as if he were on the verge of death. For the time being, he was stable.

Feeling more comfortable with his condition, Y/N had left him that morning to return to her home, so she could tend to her animals and retrieve the sealant for his wing, which she was now applying. Luckily, the tear was towards the end, and she was able to reach once he'd laid the appendage out for her. She balanced herself on his arm as she reached down and poured the thick substance down the torn area, and then she'd gone under the wing to spread a layer from the bottom. Almost immediately after she'd applied the thick, gooey material it had begun to harden. It felt sticky on his skin, and he had expressed his disgust when he'd first seen her pouring it on, but other than that he allowed her to work. The sooner he could heal and move, the sooner he could go back to the mountain and take his revenge. Now that they had no more black arrows, there was nothing they could do to harm him.

By the time she had finished applying the sealant, he was fully awake and staring out of the cave as the gentle afternoon sun drifted in onto his face. The only sounds other than his breathing were the sounds of nature: birds chirping, the gentle wisp of the long grass as the wind glided over, and the soft whisper of the leaves in the trees. Y/N could be heard humming a quiet melody, her voice like sweet honey that rolled from her tongue in graceful notes. Briefly he had wondered what tune she was emitting, but he hadn't asked her. He felt the need to ignore her, like her existence mattered not, even though she was the one and only thing that had kept him alive. Frankly, it embarrassed him to look so weak in the face of such a small creature, and in order to maintain his bruised ego he had resorted to giving her the silent treatment, refusing to appear interested in anything she did or said.

At some point, she had left again, taking both horse and wagon with her. He wasn't sure how long she had been gone, for he had fallen asleep shortly after she had gone. All he knew was that when he woke up, the sun had begun to go down, and she had returned. It was when he saw the four moose in the wagon did he realize she had gone out hunting. Their antlers had been severed, which had been laid off the to the side, leaving small boney stubs on their heads. Apparently, his wonder showed in his face, because when she looked at him she began to explain.

"The antlers come in handy."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't waste a kill. Neither will you." She motioned to the four moose. "Eat. I know it's not much for your size, but until you can hunt on your own I'm afraid this will have to do. After all, you've spent days without consuming anything but your ego, so I doubt this will be a problem."

He scoffed at her. "I am not the only one here who appears to have an ego, Elf. At least I have a right to mine."

"Oh, do you?" she challenged, as she came to stand boldly in front of him. Her stature was haughty and proud, shoulders squared back and chin held high without fear. "Funny. That is not what I saw when I found you clinging to life on the floor of this cave."

Like a cobra strike, he was lunging his head in her face with a vicious snarl, jaws snapping at her with a loud crack. However, instead of flinging herself back in fear like everyone else always had, she shocked him when she held her ground, but that wasn't even the half of it. The woman had the audacity to strike him—right on the nose—and although he barely felt it the shock of her bravery put him at a temporary freeze. She had slapped him. _Him_. The sheer ludicrousness of the truth of it left him motionless, speechless as he stared wide-eyed at the tiny woman before him. She stood there, hands on her hips, lips pursed and head held high with a prominent frown. All fear was absent from her eyes, and she looked much like a mother scolding a child.

"Enough!" she snapped after a moment. "I saved your life, dragon. And I didn't have to! I could be carving your carcass right now and roasting you for supper while using your bones for toothpicks. So before you decide to breath your fire at me for striking you, let it be known that it would stop your heart dead." Her eyes were as, if not more, sharper than the head of a black arrow. Like forest green storm clouds, she stared him down, and in spite of himself he found he did not feel the expected anger burning within his chest, urging him to purge the incinerating flames upon her. He merely sat there—staring—not at all sure what to think. That had been the very first time someone had ever stood up to him in such a way, and even though he knew he should feel rage he felt something quite different. Fascination. Mild interest was what he had expressed towards her, but now that curiosity had grown to astonishment.

"Eat," she said again, voice firm, and then left the cave.

It was a whole five minutes before he even glanced at the moose lying in front of him. Not wanting to deal with her grief when she returned, he begrudgingly consumed them. Now that he had recovered from his shock, he had recovered his wits, and with them a slow frown had gradually formed on his face. 

Who did she think she was? Injured or not, he was much larger and much more important than she was, and she should fear him simply out of respect.

"Your feathers are still ruffled, I see," said Y/N smoothly, as she appeared in the mouth of the cave.

His head snapped down to her, and before she could react she felt a large, clawed hand wrapping around her, and the next thing she knew she was being pinned to the ground. She struggled briefly, startled, when Rhysand's face was once again in hers, his anger renewed in full. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and he felt an exhilarated rush when he saw the hints of fear in her forest green orbs. Good. She should fear him, for even when wounded he was more than capable of crushing her. She spat something in Elvish at him, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What did you say?"

"I said you're an arrogant fool!" she snarled. "I am not your enemy, Rhysand! You fight me when I am merely trying to heal you!"

"Hold your tongue, you insolent Elf!" he roared.

"I am not yours to command!"

She was aware of the warmth before she saw what was happening. One second rage was flashing over his features, and in the next she became morbidly aware of the orange glow that had begun to form through the scales in his chest, which was gradually spreading up his throat like a lava flow. It became horrifyingly clear to her what he was about to do.

"Rhysand, NO!" she screeched in alarm.

He had realized his error before she had even managed to open her mouth, for his had closed right as she yelled. The horrible pain in his chest felt as if it would burst, and he released her as he fell back with a choking sound similar to a ragged gasp. Y/N was quick to her feet, as she rushed over to his chest.

"You see what your ridiculous arrogance causes?" she scolded.

He did not respond, too busy with catching his breath and choking back the suffocating sensation in his chest. It was like someone had a vice grip on his heart and lungs. He could hear her murmuring something in her language, her hand against his wound, but he didn't pay attention. What was a mere few minutes felt like hours, as his agony slowly dissipated, leaving behind only a dull ache.

"You need to take it easy. You're going to strain your wounds," she said. Her voice had quieted, and he realized she sounded concerned.  
  
Curiously, he opened his eyes to look at her. It didn't make any sense to him. He had proven he was more than capable of killing her even without fire, and yet even after he'd made a clear attempt at her life she still aided him.

"Why are you helping me, Elf?" he asked her, finally giving into the millions of questions swirling in his head.

She met his eyes. "Because you need it." She came to stand near his head. "I wouldn't have taken advantage, even though I know that's what you think."

He made a deep sound. "You take me for a fool?"

"I do."

The eye watching her narrowed precariously.

"However, I'm not lying to you," she continued, keeping calm despite the promise of death in the large, golden orb. "A wise friend once said to me that true courage is knowing, not when to take a life, but when to spare one. You were not harming me; therefore, I had no right to harm you."

"You do know who I am, little lamb," Rhysand purred. "What makes you think I will not hesitate to kill you and others once I am capable of doing so?"

"If you were going to kill me, you would have by now. You've had plenty of opportunities. That's why I didn't fear you when you had me pinned."

"I find you interesting, lamb. Do not think I won't take your life once I grow bored of these games."

Once again she surprised him when she did not express fear, disgust, or even anger at his words. Rather, she _smiled_. It was not a sardonic or mocking smile, but it was genuine—almost amused in nature. Taking a step forward, she reached up and placed her hand on his face. His eyes snapped to her hand, and almost immediately he jerked his head and knocked it off with an angry snort.

"I am not your pet, Elf!" He snarled at her. "Keep your hands off me unless you are tending to my wounds."

He wished Hell upon her when her smile only grew instead of faltering.

"Well, the tales certainly didn't exaggerate your arrogance."

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I do believe I will enjoy getting to know you, Rhysand. I want to know what makes you so petulant."

He couldn't deny he craved to know her, too. When he no longer needed her, he would get rid of her. For now, he would tolerate her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your reviews, the kudos and the comments! Keep them coming! XOXO

Rhysand was furious. He had awoken late in the afternoon when he had become vaguely aware of a prodding at his belly. When he had opened his eyes and lifted his head to see it was the She-Elf, at first he had been curious as to what she was doing. Then he saw it. One of the gems that had been embedded in his underbelly was laying flat in her hand as she examined it with a furrowed brow. In an instant he had been on his feet, the sudden movement startling her as her head snapped up to him with alarmed eyes. She barely had time to move before he had grabbed her, and she was lifted high off the ground to his eyelevel as he growled in her face menacingly.

"You dare steal from me, Elf?" he hissed at her viciously.

"I wasn't—"

He cut her off by snarling in her face. "Do not lie to me! I saw the gem in your hand! An emerald, to be exact. Did you not think I would catch you, thief?"

"I wasn't stealing from you!" She yelled, finally getting a word in. She wriggled her arm until it was free from his grip and held the large gem up for his view. It was the size of her hand, a stunning specimen. "Emeralds are healing stones. They can be used for eye, back, and heart problems. I merely took it, because I was planning to use it on you!"

He glared at her as she pointed down at a spot on his underbelly, where multiple gems and gold pieces still remained wedged between his scales.

"I was hoping to grab a crystal that I had saw, because they help amplify the abilities of other stones. I didn't wake you only because you appeared tired."

"You expect me to believe what you say?" He hissed.

"If you don't believe me, let me show you," she said, her voice having quieted to a calmer level. Her eyes were firm as she stared him down. "I will return the gems to you. I care not for stolen treasure." As she said the last bit, he had taken note of the faint contempt in her voice, and it sent a spark of anger that melded with his pride, together forming a dangerous mixture.

In the blink of an eye, he had her pressed to the ground under his hand, and he saw her flinch as he roared down at her. He glowered down at her, seething, wanting nothing more than to crush her beneath his hand like a bug—but he couldn't. Damn her, he simply couldn't put that extra weight into his hand. Every time he wished to harm her, he remembered her kind green eyes the night she had found him in the cave—staring at him with a gentle compassion. Not a hint of malice could be detected in her eyes, even though she had known who he was. He had sensed her fear when she first saw him as she peeked around the corner, but once she had realized he was hurt her fear had morphed into sympathy. And damn her did he hate her for it. Never before had he hesitated to kill, but then again no one had ever done for him what this woman had. Without her, he would have been dead. Even dragons knew respect in situations as bold as that, and he knew he could not kill her. She had spared him, and whether he liked it or not he was in her debt. And if that wasn't enough to make him hate her with his every being….

She was a strong-spirited little thing, he had to admit. He could tell when someone was lying to him as if there were a large red sigh painted across their fronts, but he knew she was telling the truth. She hadn't been stealing from him, and he almost wished she had been. Then at least he could unleash his rage upon her. Yet once again it turned out she was only trying to help him. It never ceased to baffle him, and after another long few minutes of him staring at her he had at last set her down on the ground—but he didn't release his hold on her just yet.

"You will put them back once you are finished," he said, and although his voice was calm anyone should be able to detect the threat in his voice. When she nodded in agreement, he loosened his hand, and she wriggled out of his grip.

It was amazing to Rhysand how easily she recovered from his bursts of rage. It had always left others cowering in his presence, but not her. It was like she knew him. He did not like it. After she had done some sort of ritual with the stones, uttering quiet words in Elvish, she had proceeded to apply the leaves to his wound. By now the skin was practically healed, as was his wing. He could move around without feeling like he would tear the skin open, and after she had returned the stones as promised, she had sat down in the wagon, which she cleaned after every hunt.

Y/N could sense Rhysand's confusion as she sat against the back of the wagon, a leather-bound book in her hands. She had been working on a sketch of him as he stared out the cave, seemingly unaware of what she was doing. It was when he was staring outside like this that she could see his true colors—when he wasn't aware she was watching. One of the first things she had come to realize was that he was incredibly homesick. He wanted nothing more than to take flight back to the Eridanus Mountains, but he could not. She had seen an array of emotions as he had her pinned to the ground just hours ago. It was clear from the blue fire that swam in his indigo orbs that he had wanted to crush her, but something had held him back, revealing the confusion, frustration, and even compliance that lay within him. All who knew him knew him as a creature of pure evil, but Y/N did not believe any dragon creature was capable of true evil. Dragons were highly misunderstood creatures, but she was one of the few who did understand. They were very prideful—more so than most kings—and were very easily insulted or angered. They were a dominant race. That was all. Like any other species, they marked their territory, and once they had claimed it they left others alone unless one dared to challenge them. Dragons were not mindless killers.

Otherwise, he would have killed her by now.

She knew. It had not evaded her attention how he had struggled with himself when pinning her beneath his claws. She knew he had hoped she hadn't noticed, so she had not commented on it. It had become clear to her then that he was restraining from harming her, because she had saved his life. At first she had been shocked he would even care to acknowledge her mercy, but apparently even dragons had morals—if hazardously limited. She was helping him, and so he had given her a shred of his respect in return. To most it would seem like nothing, but to her it meant more than the worth of any gold piece.

"What are you working on, there?"

His voice caused her to blink from her little reverie, and she looked at him. It took her a moment to realize what he had said was a question, but she had been so lost in thought that she hadn't caught it. 

"I'm sorry, I was thinking about something. Would you mind repeating that?"

He nodded loosely to the book in her lap. "What is that?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just a few sketches."

"May I see?"

Frankly, it surprised her he gave a rat's ass, but she knew there would be no denying him. So, she scooted off the wagon and walked over to stand before him. He waited patiently as she flipped back the page and held it up for him to see, and he leaned closer. The first sketch she showed him was the one she had been working on, and she watched silently as his eyes scanned over each individual detail. She had seen the brief flash of surprise cross over his features when he saw she had drawn him, and it had quickly turned to fascination. She had transferred his every last detail onto the page, right down to the missing scale on his left breast. It was amazing to him how much she had taken in, capturing traits even he didn't know he possessed.

"Show me more," he said softly, not wanting to sound like he was commanding her.

She nodded and smiled before flipping the page. The book also included an extremely detailed close-up of his eye, as well as multiple sketches of a kingdom he could only guess was an Elven kingdom. Multiple elves were also featured—probably relatives or close friends. Her perspective on the world around her was fascinating. She could capture the entire forest in a single picture. He commented here and there on her skill, or he would question the identities of the buildings and people, and she would answer with detailed responses. He could tell she enjoyed talking about these things, often laughing or smiling when the image would remind her of a humorous story, which she would share with him. It was a bit surprising to him how willing she seemed to be to share her life with him, but he listened to every detail with genuine interest. As she talked, she would draw little shapes and images in the dirt to give him a better perspective, and she made an array of different motions with her arms and hands. The woman was a natural born story teller, and at one point he had almost smiled at her enthusiasm. Slowly, he was beginning to grow faintly fond of the woman, even if he did not know it yet himself.

"Why didn't you run when you saw me?" He asked later that night, with an edge of interest.

Y/N looked at him from beside the fire she had made. "I did at first."

"What made you turn back?"

She considered his question for a moment. "When you didn't follow me… I assumed something must be wrong. I went back to investigate and saw you were wounded."

"But, what made you assist me?" He couldn't hold back his curiosity.

Y/N bit her lip at his words, but she answered his question nonetheless. "I guess I made myself see past the fact you were a dragon. I saw you as a creature of this world, and that was enough for me." At his stare she could tell he was not fully satisfied, so she continued, "I have seen many things in my days. I have seen a lot of death, and I have seen a great deal of love, peace, and beauty. People fear what they don't understand. I have seen them kill and destroy anything they do not understand, because it scares them. Dragons, for example… they are the tyrants of the sky. When your kind was in numbers, I watched many fall when they had done no more than pass by… because people fear them. I once heard a group of hunters ruthlessly kill a nest of hatchlings that hadn't so much as left their nest yet. Poor little things. You are the first dragon I have seen for nearly two centuries. Men accuse so many creatures of evil… but that is not what I see. If anything, I would say men are the worst of them all."

Rhysand, who had been listening intently, eyed her with a calculating gaze. She couldn't quite decipher what she saw in those brilliant eyes, but she had a feeling he was trying to figure her out.

"You were alive during the ages of the fire drakes?"

She set him with a curious stare at his sudden change in topic. "Yes."

He considered her with a quiet interest, but he did not question her further. Turning his head, he returned his gaze out into the world outside the cave once more. Y/N knew it would have been wise to leave him be after that, but her own curiosity was beginning to get the better of her. She had seen something in his eyes when she had mentioned the dragons, and if she didn't know better… she would have said he almost looked poignant.

"Do you ever grow lonely, Rhysand?" She asked quietly.

He turned his head back to her.

"I mean… for so many years you had been hiding in that mountain. Did you never miss the outside world? Did you never grow bored or crave conversation?"

He stared at her, seeming confused she would even care to ask. "Even if I did, there aren't many in this world I would care to have a conversation with."

That wasn't an answer to her question, but she took the hint and didn't press any further. The corners of her mouth did lift the slightest bit, however. "Too bad. I rather enjoy our conversations… when you're not trying to kill me, that is."

Realizing she was trying to lift his mood, which she had apparently noticed had darkened, he once again found himself eyeing her. As he understood she was trying to cheer him up, he almost went so far as to smile at her. _Almost_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realize the first few chapters may have been a bit slow, but they will start to pick up now that Rhysand is healing. Dragons are naturally fast healers, and he will be causing more trouble soon! ;) I appreciate reviews and the kudos! It means a lot if you just take a moment to leave a comment. They can be very helpful!

It had been a total of three days since Y/N had spared Rhysand, and he was already making a fair amount of progress. At one point he had grown angry at her again and had strained the wound on his wing, so she had to reapply more sealant. Other than that, his wounds were healing nicely. She would spend the mornings tending to her animals, and around noon she would go on a hunt. Admittedly, she felt a pang of guilt every time she released an arrow on the innocent creatures. Hunting for survival was one thing, but she couldn't help but feel torn with the fact she was hunting for a fire-breathing dragon. Every time she would make a kill, she would kneel beside the creature and place her hand affectionately on its body right above its heart, and she would recite a prayer in the Elven tongue.

Rhysand was a tough one to please, and his temper was shorter than a viper strike. The smallest of things could set him off, but she had been quickly learning how to calm him down for the most part. It was a relief he was still unable to breathe fire, which removed a huge pressure. All it came down to was a battle of wits. For the most part he cooperated with her, eating the food she gave him and allowing her to do whatever she had to do concerning his wounds. However, whenever she made a move to touch him otherwise, he would reject her every time.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him lightly, when she entered the cave that day.

"Afternoon," he replied coolly.

She walked over to his chest, like she always did when she arrived, and checked his wound. "Does it hurt at all when I apply pressure?" she asked him, as she pressed gently against the healing skin.

He turned his head to look back at her.   
"No. The sealant works well."

She stepped back and looked at him. "Can you extend your wing, please?"

He blew a small puff of air from his nostrils and shifted a bit before doing as she instructed. Lifting his arm, he stretched out the huge wing as far as the cave's walls would allow.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"Is there any discomfort at all?"

"Nothing close to the original pain," he answered shortly.

"Excellent. I don't think you should try flying yet, but you should be able to walk. Care to give it a go? You should start moving around every day."

He appeared surprised she was suggesting him to get up. It was just three days ago he could barely catch his breath. It was pleasing to him that he was healing so quickly. Even he had to admit that the She-Elf was an excellent healer, even if she had a habit of working at his last nerve with her cheeky responses. Her eyes were always calm and kind, never paying much mind to his insults. This he found curious. Elves were a proud race—a race who often looked down on those who defied or offended them in any way. She lacked the arrogance, and her nose wasn't constantly stuck in the air like she was better than him.

With her instruction, he slowly got to his feet, and she watched as his muscles flexed when they held up his immense bulk. Y/N watched him closely while he moved, walking around to his front as she looked him over with utter amazement. If she had thought he was huge before, now that he was standing he appeared even larger. 

_What a magnificent beast_ , she thought. _And he could very possibly be the last. In spite of his tyrannical personality_ , she was saddened at the thought.

"Do you feel anything unusual? Any discomfort? Shortness of breath?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his haughty tone and nodded. "Good. Follow me."

He followed her out of the cave wordlessly, ducking his head to avoid scraping it against the lower ceiling. The sun shined down on him in gentle streams once he was outside, warming his skin and face. He squinted slightly, for it was very bright compared to the cave, but the feeling of it was fresh. It was amazing how many smells were blocked by the cave's walls; the smell of the nearby stream, blooming plant life, and the faint aroma of animals. The air was clean, contrasting a pleasant difference from the stuffy, cramped cave. He followed the woman a little ways before she turned back to him and asked him to stop.

"Any discomfort?" she asked again.

"No. I must admit I am impressed by your healing expertise," he mused.

"Don't thank me until you're fully healed." She nodded over her shoulder. "Care to take a walk?"

He eyed her. "Where to?"

"There's a lake not far from here. If you feel comfortable doing so, it's a nice spot to bask in the sun."

She led him to the lake, which wasn't more than a half a mile over the hill. It opened up to a large pool, its waters sparkling in the gentle afternoon sun. The area was wide and open, allowing air to filter through freely, carrying with it all the scents of the land surrounding them. Their side was dense with forest, while across the lake the lands were open and green. A little ways down, a herd of wild horses grazed happily on the lush green grass, tails whipping about to swat the flies that tried nipping at their flanks. Long grasses grew around the boulders sitting at the edge of the water, where various winged insects perched to capture the sun.  
  
Y/N walked from the forest's edge and approached the water, kneeling down to run her hands through the shallow surface. Rhysand followed, coming to stand at her side. He looked out at the open land on the other side of the lake with distant eyes. It was almost symbolic. He was figuratively trapped on the side of the lake dense with trees, while the other remained open and free. In reality, he would be able to cross the lake effortlessly, but he knew there wasn't much point. At least not yet. For now, he needed to remain patient.

"Relax." Y/N patted his hand to get his attention, and he looked down at her. "I know what you're thinking, but you need to give yourself more time."

Snorting, he returned his gaze forward. "I feel like a finch in a cage."

A light chuckle escaped her, and it caused him to send her a sharp scowl.

"You are hardly a finch, Rhysand. I know you are irked by the fact you are stuck here." She turned to him fully. "I also know that you hate me for having to depend on me, but what you don't understand is that injury does not make you weak. It makes you stronger."

He snorted.

"You're still a dragon. Sure, you might not be capable of breathing fire at the moment, but that doesn't make you vulnerable. You know that. You don't have to prove yourself to me, Rhysand."

Rumbling deep in his throat, he turned his head, and then lowered it down to give her a closer look. 

"I suppose you have a point," he purred.  
  
She almost smiled. She had known her words would stroke his ego, and she had done it on purpose. Anyone who knew a thing about dragons knew that the easiest way to remain in their good graces was to flatter them and keep them more interested in your words rather than your flesh. Yet, admittedly she also did it out of sympathy. It could be seen in his eyes whenever he stared out of the cave, and now while he gazed out at the open land beyond. His self-image had been bruised, and it frustrated him he was weakened to such a point where he could not be at his full potential. She could feel it radiating from his body. He was restless. He thirsted for revenge—to return to the mountain—but aside from that she could tell he simply wanted to release energy. The tension had slowly been building up as he sat immobile in the cave, and now that suppressed energy was ready to break free.

And although Y/N was pleased to see he was no longer in the grips of death, worry continued to scratch and bubble at the very back of her conscience. She wanted to see him get better. Dragons were fiercely scarce, and it would be a pity to see them gone forever. It was only her luck that Rhysand happened to be the fiercest of their race, and he had a temper to match. In truth, she knew she may have made a very foolish decision in allowing the beast to live. It was clear as day in his bright blue eyes—he wanted revenge. He wanted to see elvish bastards for what they did to him. Few, if any, had ever survived humiliating a fully-grown dragon. Her mind had been at work since the night she had met him, trying to figure out any possible way to keep him from returning to the mountains. She heard the leaves whispering about Elves searching for 'the Mountain Monster', and that if they found him they would possibly kill Rhysand. She didn't want that. It was a foolish thought, she knew, but something had made her help him. Something had screamed at her from far away, willing her to have mercy. She had never felt a force so strong, but she knew not to question it. It was the one and only thing that gave her hope. There was a reason Rhysand had been brought into her life. What his purpose was, she did not know, but somehow—deep down—she knew she had made the right decision.

She watched as he laid down on the lake's bank, and he bowed his long neck to drink from the sparkling waters. Large ripples traveled across the water's surface as he drank, and she couldn't help but wonder what she was to do with him. It was a maddening mystery what was to happen to her and others once he was healed. She barely had control over him now. Dragons. She had finally decided to settle down after years of constant travel, and she is given a dragon. 

Sighing, she walked to the water's edge and knelt down once more. She cupped the crystal clear liquid in her hands and brought it up to splash it in her face. Because she was preoccupied, she missed the sideways glance Rhysand sent her, or the way he shifted very subtly until his clawed hand was positioned behind her. She never saw it coming, and the last thing she knew she was soaking wet after being pushed into the water.

Rhysand snorted back a laugh as she sputtered, the sight of her drenched form pleasing him greatly. She looked positively pathetic, as water streamed from her clothes and skin. Her hair hung over her shoulders and down her back in soaked tresses like dark rivers, a few stray strands sticking to her wet face. After a moment, she had turned her head up to him with a frown, her large, forest green orbs piteous. He merely ignored her, acting innocent as he continued to drink like he hadn't noticed a thing. His good moods had been restored.

At least until he felt something cold, slick, and wet smack him right next to the eye. He lifted his head with a surprised snort, and his eyes darted directly to the woman when he heard her laughter. Almost in the same second he saw a small, dark shape darting through the water, and it was then he realized what had just happened.

"Did you just throw a fish at my face?"

"No."

He was about to snarl at her for daring to lie to him, but he stopped when he saw her eyes. They were alight with a strange glow, a glow which complimented the sweet smile that caressed her lips. It became very clear to him at that moment that she knew full well he could see straight through her; that she knew he knew she had thrown the fish at him. For a moment, he did nothing more than stare at her. Once again he found himself bewildered with this tiny creature's behavior, as he realized she was only playing with him. Playing. Not defying—not mocking—merely having fun. He could see it in her face.

"What's wrong, Rhysand?" she said, and he could hear the tease in her voice. "Don't you ever have fun?"

She smacked her arm through the water, splashing him. It was a hilarious little spit of water against his size, but it meant all the same. He stood up, looking down at her as if she had grown six heads. His first reaction had been anger, but now he didn't know what to think. No one had ever attempted to fool around with him before, and here this woman was. She knew he could crush her with a single finger, but she continued to display no fear. It was bizarre, if a bit maddening.

"There is something wrong with you, Elf," he said at last, his voice holding a blunt edge.

She plashed him again, this time getting him in the face, and he drew back with an affronted expression. Lifting his hand, he slapped the water, and she was swallowed in a small wave of water that knocked her down. He let out a short snort. It served her right. Perhaps now she would leave him alone. He watched with smug eyes as she got back to her feet in the shallow water, his splash having knocked her off her feet. What he had expected was for her to back down, or at the very least be sore he had knocked her backwards, but no. Pushing her hair back out of her face, she splashed him again, her laughter returning. He shook his head when her splash of water went into his nose, which only caused her laughter to rise.

"Woman!" he snapped.

"Have some fun, you overgrown salamander!"

"I will crush you."

"Prove it!" She splashed him in the face, and then she bolted from the water. A hiss escaped him, and he was up in an instant. She ran at a full sprint down the bank, only getting a moment's head start before he was after her. When he came too close, she made a sharp right and dove into the lake, taking him off guard as she disappeared into the water. A series of ripples followed where she had dove, and he was left looking around for her silhouette in the deeper water. He didn't consider that she was waiting for him to lower his head, because he was deeply taken aback when she suddenly appeared and spit a mouthful of water right into his face. He barely had time to widen his eyes before she was gone, and he had swiped at the now empty water in attempt to grab her. Their game had continued for another few minutes before he finally managed to snatch her out of the water. But when she had challenged him to see if he could catch her again, he hadn't been able to decline. Reluctantly, he had let her go… well… more of dropped her back into the water. She had resurfaced only briefly to smirk up at him before diving once more.

The game of cat and mouse continued for awhile. Rhysand had caught her again, but the game stroked his ego, so he had released her once more. It became a matter of how many times he could prove he could catch her. Y/N was more than happy to entertain him, each dive just as enthusiastic as the last. In truth, she had let him catch her a couple times, but she made sure not to make it so easy that he figured out she was letting him win. After awhile, it had become apparent he was starting to enjoy their activity as well. The glint in his eyes was almost playful as he splashed around trying to capture her. Anyone who saw him would probably think he was trying to rip apart the large fish that occupied the lake's water, not that he was toying with a small She-Elf. After capturing her for the sixth time, however, he had decided he'd had enough. He set her down on the ground before lying down on the long grass beneath the swaying vines of the trees. The sun was just beginning to set in the horizon, and he stretched out his wings to his sides. Y/N knew this was how dragons basked in the sun, their wings acting as solar panels. He was absorbing the last couple hours of sunlight left.

She walked over and sat down at a comfortable distance beside his head, ignoring the clingy sensation of her wet clothes sticking to her body. A refreshed feeling washed over her body as she breathed in deeply, inhaling the smells in the air. Her game with Rhysand had left her feeling tired but exercised. She had been a little apprehensive at first, but she had relaxed after he began to enjoy himself as well. It was amazing to her how he could blindly snatch her from the water without leaving so much as a scratch on her. Those claws were like spears. One false move, and she could have been skewered. Rhysand laid with his eyes closed, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun as it warmed his silver scales. He had felt a little short of breath after his games with the little She-Elf, but it was nothing close to what he had felt days ago. Admittedly, he had enjoyed the Elf's company that day, even though he would not admit it to her. He had never participated in such innocent activities in all his years, and once she had gotten him into it he had even allowed himself to grow a mischievous smirk as he chased her. It had been a drastic change from his usual games, which included death, fire, and mayhem, but it had been a pleasant change.

And so he had humored her, and she had humored him. Now they rested together on the grassy banks of the huge lake in a comfortable silence, watching as the sun gradually set beyond the horizon. The warm oranges, pinks, and gold colors that filled the sky were a vibrant contrast to the dark, grey, ominous shadows the night he had arrived, and he found himself drifting into a deep sleep to the sound of the gentle trickle of the waters and the soft melody Y/N hummed to herself as she braided her hair.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Y/N had awoken early and headed for the lake before the sun had even risen three inches over the horizon. She had meant to let Rhysand sleep, but he was already wide awake when she passed the cave on her way, his eyes following the cart she pulled behind her. After he'd inquired as to where she was off to, he had risen to his feet and followed after her. She didn't mind. He took his spot by the bank while she lowered her pack to the ground, picking up a long spear that leaned against the bolder nearest her. With a small amount of questioning from Rhysand, she explained to him that the best time to fish in these waters was early in the morn, before the morning sun had a chance to warm the waters up. The fish were slower and vaguely disoriented from the colder temperature, but even then they were a challenge to capture without a net, and hers had been torn. So, all she was left with was her wits and a needle-sharp spear.

Rhysand thought the sight before him rather humorous and kind of nice-looking. For a moment he wondered if she knew just how ridiculous she looked as she stalked the large fish. To him they were tiny, but compared to her one was about half her size. He'd nearly burst out laughing when one had evaded her strike and darted between her legs, nearly knocking her off her feet. It was unknown to him why she did not just hunt like she normally did, but he didn't comment on it. This was far too entertaining. At one point she had caught sight of his smirk, and she turned to him with a flat expression.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so."

"You're too big, and you're too close to the water. They can see you, and it's scaring them away."

He made a motion with his shoulders that was similar to a shrug, and she knew he wasn't going to budge. It looked like he smirked. "Move down the bank."

She made a sound of disgust and shooed her hands at him in a dismissive fashion. He merely continued to smirk.

"Tell me about yourself, lamb," he said suddenly.

Having halted in her efforts for a moment, she looked up at him with an analyzing gaze. "I am a Nebula-Elf from Mistspace."

"Elves do not commonly live solitary lives. Why do you live alone, may I ask?"

Her eyes remained locked with his, and he could see his question bothered her slightly. "I was banished."

His curiosity was sparked. Sitting up straighter, he tilted his head in an inquiring manner, brow arching. "Banished?"

"Yes."

It was clear by her tart expression and tone of voice that she was not particularly fond of speaking about this, but it was too late for that. She had ignited his interest, and now she was going to tell him about herself whether she wanted to or not.

"Tell me, what must an Elf do to be banished by her own kin?" He purred.

She kept his stare solemnly, noting his lack of restraint with vague annoyance. "I could tell you, but you would not believe me even if I did."

"Do try me."

She stared at him. "I was banished for attempting to save an egg."

His face showed a wonder. "An egg?"

"Yes. A dragon's egg."

A snort left him, taken aback. When he said nothing, she continued.

"I am older than I look. I was around when dragons still lived in numbers… when they were being hunted. One after one they fell, most of them young and relatively small… easier to pierce with weapons. Nests were destroyed." She licked her lips. "We found out a nest was not far from our forest. A group was to ban together and seek it out to destroy the un-hatched eggs. I did not want to take part in the murder of an innocent hatchling. It is not the Elven way to harm helpless creatures. I was one of the very few who did not wish to see the dragons perish. And so I did the only thing I could think of."

Rhysand remained silent, completely absorbed in her story. The look he was giving her was almost similar to that of a child listening to their parents tell them tales of their adventures. She would have smiled at him if the story she told did not awaken negative energy within her.

"I set out a day ahead of the group. I did not stop even to drink until I located the nest. Luckily, the parents had not been there. The nest had been left unguarded, so I was able to find the egg and leave undetected. I walked through the water so as to not leave behind a scent or tracks. For days I remained with the egg, camped out in a cave with a constant fire to keep the hatchling warm. Only when I was sure my kin had given up the hunt did I move the egg to a new location."

"How could you expect an egg to survive without another dragon to care for it?" he scoffed.

"I left a message in the original nest where my kin would not find it. I remained with the egg for nearly a week before seeing the outline of the mother in the far distance. Knowing she would likely kill me should she see me with her egg, I left. However, when I returned to my home, I was promptly banished for treason. I was accused of endangering the lives of my kin for going behind their backs to save the hatchling."

"How did they know it was you?"

"Because I left the borders of the forest. Our ruler had found out what I had done, and she told me I could no longer live among them. She claimed I was a danger to my kin, and to all life on this world." A long sigh escaped her as she was forced to recollect the memories of her past. "I have lived alone for nearly one hundred years, but I have grown accustomed to it. I am at peace."

"Do you not crave revenge against the ones who betrayed you?" He exclaimed.

"If anything, I was the one who betrayed them." She met his eyes. "I do miss my old home, but I do not seek revenge… nor do I regret saving the life of that helpless dragon."

He stared at her. To say he was shocked would have been a severe understatement. For a long time he did not say anything, and she had gone back to fishing. He was still amazed she had saved his life, but nothing blew him away more than the fact she had helped his kind once before—knowing she would suffer mass consequences for her actions. She had allowed herself to be banished for a dragon. Why was she so keen on saving a race that sought to destroy hers? Dragons had never done anything for her. It made no sense in his mind that she would go to such lengths while expecting nothing in return. Surely she must know her efforts were futile.

He watched as she managed to spear one of the fish, and she dragged its limp body from the water's shallows. Its slick scales shimmered in the morning sun as she laid it out on the cart. A small sweat had formed on her brow, but she seemed not to notice. As a matter of fact, her eyes were somber, and she looked a bit dismayed after their conversation. It was obvious she missed her kin, and she probably hadn't seen any of them since her banishment.

Suddenly, he got to his feet, and it caused her to look up at him, startled. The fish darted away from his shadow in fright, and her first reaction was to cast him an annoyed stare, but what he did next took her off guard. Standing to his full height, he turned towards the lake and suddenly reared up on his hind legs as his wings unfurled. Y/N had to duck to avoid being struck by the appendage, and she watched with wide eyes as he took into the air for the first time since she had met him.

"Rhysand, what are you doing?" She called after him, quite alarmed.

He soared low over the lake, looking much like a great bat as he skimmed over the water's surface with his molten gold eyes. She watched, half in interest and half in alarm, as he rounded about. A few fish jumped out of the water in their frenzied attempts to escape the immense dragon, and it was then she realized he was driving them towards her. He was helping her fish. Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead when he lowered his body so his feet skimmed along the water's surface, forcing the fish to swim in front of him. Then all at once he dropped down, smacking his tail down into the water. Y/N watched in total amazement as he used his body to corral the fish between the two boulders near where she had been fishing, dropping his tail in front of one while his upper half rested against another bolder to the far left. This left the fish nowhere to swim, caught in a dragon-made corral.

She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her at seeing the fish splashing about in the shallows, and she sent Rhysand a smile before running to grab her spear. The next fifteen minutes or so were spent with her in the water throwing her spear and dragging the large fish back to her cart. Every other one she caught she would throw up to Rhysand, who swallowed them whole. By the time she had a full cart, the sun had risen completely, blanketing the land in midday warmth. Once she had decided she had enough fish, Rhysand had stood and allowed the remaining school to dart back towards the middle of the lake, happy to be away from them. He followed her back to the cave, where she started a fire and cooked one of the fish for herself. The others she would bring back to her home to salt and store.

By the time night had fallen, Y/N had almost forgotten her earlier sadness as she packed up the cart. She had spent the afternoon talking with Rhysand, who remained absolutely fascinated about her rescuing a dragon's egg. He made her tell him the details of the story, but only leading up to where she dropped the egg off at its new location. She had even recalled the color of the shell. He would never admit it, but he had grown to respect her for more reasons than one. It was not easy to gain his admiration, but she had proven herself exceedingly worthy. The little female had gone to lengths no other would dare go. Unlike any other, she respected his race, and not out of fear. He could sense it in the way she spoke of them, as a small smile tugged at her lips, and the way her eyes sparkled as she told him about a time she had seen a female soar over the horizon when she had been hiking the mountains; how her scales had shimmered—her wings translucent in the sunlight. Her heart held a genuine love for his race. He had never met another like her.

But he wouldn't realize just how fond he had grown of her until later that night.

Rhysand rose into the shallowest realm of consciousness deep into the night. Y/N had left hours ago, and he had gone to sleep shortly after. However, something stirred him from his slumber that night. Slowly, his drowsy mind stirred from a dream he'd been having. It had been about the unicorn—the same one that Y/N had brought to him—and she had been whinnying loudly, her hooves pawing against the ground restlessly. It wasn't until a very shrill whinny did his eyes snap open, startled, and it was then and only then he realized… he had not been dreaming.

There she stood before him in the cave, stepping about nervously as she scraped her hooves against the ground. Her pearly coat seemed to give off an angelic glow in the moonlight, silver mane swishing about as she shook her head. Rhysand lifted his head, eyeing her curiously and with no small amount of perplexity. For a moment he wondered if he was still dreaming. He watched as she tossed her head once again, and she reared up with another shrill neigh as if in a high state of panic.

"What?" He asked, not knowing what else to do.

Throwing her head, she snorted at him and ran from the cave, but he could tell she hadn't left the clearing outside. She wanted him to follow her, he realized. Not entirely sure why, he got up and slowly exited the cave to see the unicorn not ten feet away, still stepping about restlessly. That was when it hit him. His keen senses picked it up the moment he had stepped outside. Smoke. Lifting his head sharply, he looked towards the general direction of Y/N's home, and he saw it. A cloud of smoke rose high in the air, blackened and growing. That was the moment he understood. Y/N was in danger, and the unicorn had come to him for help.

Without even thinking as to why, he rushed forward a few steps and leapt into the air before he even realized he was flying. With his huge wingspan, it took him only minutes to reach the hillside that lead to her cottage, and he landed before looking down. There lye a cottage and small farm, which was being swallowed by bright orange and yellow flames. The wood crackled and groaned as it burned, and he could hear the shrill, panicked cries of the animals trapped inside the barn. But that was not all. There were people, but their skin was blackened and their faces malformed, looking as if they had climbed up directly from the pits of Hell itself.

Elven-Bastards.

Before he could even register the anger building inside him, he was stopped short when he caught scent of blood in the air. It mixed in with another scent that snagged his immediate attention. It was her scent. A sensation shot through his chest, and for a moment he thought it was his heart acting up. What he didn't understand was that it was panic. Where was Y/N? His eyes scanned the grounds beneath the hill, but he could not see the She-Elf amongst the Bastards, who remained oblivious to his presence. Oblivious fools.

Then suddenly, a piercing scream rang through the air, and before he even saw her he felt his blood boil. Then he spotted her. She was on her back on the ground not thirty feet from her burning cottage, three Bastards surrounding her on their knees. They laughed, sneering maliciously as two of them held her down, the third between her legs, which she tried to keep closed and kick him away with. The sound of her sobs and the realization that they were trying to rape her only further ignited his rage, and at that moment all their fates were sealed.

The first thing Y/N registered was that the Bastards had begun to scream; though she couldn't see past the three holding her down. But then she heard it; a booming, enraged roar that caused the ground to shake, and, more importantly, for her captors to snap their heads up in fear. Then they were off her, stumbling off at a run, and she saw him.

Rhysand threw the Bastard he had clamped in his jaws, landing him directly in the middle of the flaming cottage. He had soared down the moment he had spotted Y/N, and now it was a matter of how many Bastards he could kill before they could run ten feet from the burning home. He had felt a wicked glee flash through him at seeing them flee in utter terror, and he let out a dark laugh. They were fools if they thought they could escape. He'd stepped on one when he'd landed, and his tail had taken out three more, the blow killing them even before they were sent flying through the air. It was a chaotic mess of claws and teeth, as the Bastards met their demise one by one, either being crushed under his immense weight or being speared by his claws and teeth. A few were flung into the fire, where their agonized screams rang out like music to his ears. He had seen a number were already dead when he had arrived, and it occurred to him Y/N had not gone down without a fight. He stepped on them carelessly as he pursued the others, but it was hardly a chase. In a matter of minutes, he had run down every last one, feeling a sense of jovial exhilaration at feeling their blood stain his tongue as he listened to their screams of terror. Oh, how he had missed the sound of fear in his presence.

However, once he was sure he had killed every last Bastard his attention immediately shifted back to Y/N. He looked to where she had been only to find her nowhere. Briefly, he thought one of the Bastards had taken off with her when he was occupied, but after a moment he saw her. She had run to the top of the hill, having watched him slaughter the Bastards, and her eyes were wide as she stared down at him. Wordlessly, he went to her, climbing the hill and coming to stand before her. He towered over her, the look of a fresh kill in his bright eyes, but she showed no fear. Not of him. Her tear-filled eyes stared up at him, and he stared back at her, not saying anything. He could decipher a mixture of emotions in her eyes, and among them he saw relief, fear, and a fair amount of shock. Yet the one that overpowered them all was the absolute grief that welled in her glistening, forest green orbs. Then, all at once, she was running up to him and collapsed against his hand, where she promptly broke down into uncontrollable sobs.

He stared down at her, shocked. Gratitude for saving her had been expected, but he had not been anywhere close to prepared for her to throw her tiny frame at him in grief. He could hear her crying as she hugged his hand, tears streaking down her face. It was easy to understand even for him. During his days, he had seen many tears from the survivors the Bastards had left after destroying the cities and towns they had lived in before the repulsive creatures had desolated them. He knew why they cried. It had never meant anything to him. Not until that night. This woman was different. Her screams had not induced pleasure in his mind, but a boiling rage. Her tears made him wish there were more Bastards, so he could continue killing them in every way imaginable. Turning his head, he looked back down the hill at her burning home. By now the crying of the animals had ceased, and bloodied bodies lay scattered on the ground around the cottage. To him it was just a house that could be rebuilt, but he knew it meant more to Y/N—much more—and for the first time ever he felt a pang of sympathy. Even when he tried to deny it to himself, a prodding instinct within him made him remember her gentle hands on his face and her soft voice as she soothed him the night she found him in the cave.

And so he remained where he was, allowing her to cry against his hand as he watched the cottage burn gradually to the ground, his eyes hard. At least she was alive, but he was hardly satisfied. He would be well soon enough. For now, the Eridanus Mountains could wait. The Bastards needed to pay.


	7. Chapter 7

__

_Flames engulfed the small cottage… swallowing it whole in a glowing orange light. They danced and crackled…taunting her… Bastards… blood in the air… smoke stinging her eyes… screaming of the animals… a horse whinnies shrilly… blades swing… a few drop dead… blood…blood everywhere… the cottage gives a groan as it collapses in itself… attacking from all directions… she drops another Bastard… tears streaming down her face… ashes drift through the air… lunges… snarls… she's knocked down… the world spins… splitting pain in her head… a knees drives into her stomach… struggling… she's pinned… nails digging into her flesh… hands wrench her legs apart… kicking madly… screams… there's a deafening roar… Bastards scream… fleeing… indigo eyes…._

She awoke with a startled gasp, but when she moved to roll away from the Bastards she was blocked by something firm and warm. Blinking, her whirring, groggy mind gradually registered that she was no longer surrounded by them. The sky was not black in the deep hours of night, and she did not hear the Bastards' cackles as they pillaged her home. Instead, she was greeted with a gentle warmth that cocooned her entire body as she lay on her side in the soft grass. When she looked up, however, her still hazy mind was greeted with a confusing sight. It was not the sky she was looking up at, but what looked like the roof of a silver tent—until she realized the canvas had vague outlines of veins. She froze, realizing what she was looking at. Slowly, she turned her head to look down by her feet, and she was met with the sight of a muscular leg, clawed foot, and long tail. Blinking, she looked in front of her at Rhysand's head, which was resting on the ground as well, his eyes closed in slumber. That was the moment she realized she was laying with her back against his side, and she was under his wing.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, beyond confused. Reaching back, she rubbed a sore spot behind her head as she tried to remember what had happened, when a smell caused her to stop in her actions. Smoke. She smelled smoke. Before she even thought it through, she was standing and walking out from under the huge wing, careful to keep her footsteps silent as the night as she passed by Rhysand's head. The moment she was given a clear view of her surroundings, she knew exactly where she was. Her footsteps were slow, her feet feeling heavy as she slowly walked to the edge of the hill, knowing what she would find but being unable to turn herself around. When she peered down at the remains of her ruined home, it took all she had in her not to release tears.

Her home was in ruins. All that remained were charred remains of the stones used to construct the walls, the rest laying in a pile of blackened ash. The lifeless Bastard and lamia corpses remained lying motionlessly, scattered on the ash and bloodstained lawn around the cottage. It was the only reprieve that was given to her, knowing the ones who did this had met their deserved fate. It had dawned on her that she must have passed out on the hill the previous night, but what amazed her was that Rhysand had stayed with her. She recalled his thunderous roar and the blistering rage in his stormy eyes as he mercilessly slaughtered the Bastards, lips pulled back to expose serrated teeth in a vicious snarl. If it had been any other scenario, she probably would have been scared out of her wits, but the only thing she had felt at seeing the dragon had been relief. How he knew she was in danger, she did not know. All she could think about was that if he had not been there, she would have been gang-raped and killed by those abominations.

After a few minutes, she gained the courage to venture down the hill. It took a moment of searching, but she finally found her pack on the ground next to the dead body of a Bastard. In it was her book of sketches and other various supplies she had carried with her. The debris was still hot in some areas, so she had to be careful if she attempted to pick something up. A small handful of items had survived the flames, being made of either metal or some other non-flammable material. She kept her eyes solidly trained away from the animal corpses, refusing to look at their charred remains. It was like looking at the dead family member for he, and she simply couldn't stomach it at the moment. While she was sifting through the ashes, she hadn't taken notice of Rhysand's large silhouette on the hilltop.

He had woken to find her missing, and he had walked to the hillside, knowing it was the most logical place she would have gone. When he had spotted her amongst the ruined rubble of her home, however, he had almost felt pity towards her. He remained at the top of the hill, eyes scanning over the grounds with a strange awareness. As Y/N climbed back up the hill, he saw she was covered in black ash and looked like the walking dead. Her eyes were empty, lacking the usual sparkle, and her steps were slow as if her body was made of led. She hardly glanced at him as she passed, walking straight by without a word. He didn't need to ask to know she was headed towards the lake. For once in his life, he said nothing and just followed her.

Rhysand watched her from his spot on the bank. She was sitting atop one of the boulders, her knees drawn up to her chest, as she stared out at the horizon, eyes unblinking and empty. It had been like this since they had arrived almost two hours ago, and it was beginning to get to him. At first he had thought it was because she was in shock, but it was gradually becoming more and more apparent to him that wasn't fully the case. There was a look in her eyes that didn't sit well with him. This was not the woman he had been with. This was not the woman that had saved him from the grips of death, and who looked upon him with kind, nonjudgmental eyes. He did not like this woman. She was but an empty shell of the one he knew. He hated how still she was, and he might have thought she'd turned to stone if it hadn't been for the gentle flow of her hair in the breeze, or the way her sweet, rounded breasts lowered and rose as she breathed.

  
  
He hadn't realized how used he was to her smile and strong character. Now she looked more like the women of the cities that had been destroyed, empty and lifeless. The loss of her home had cut her deep, but he felt there was something else—something deeper that was ailing her. Once again it caused anger to bubble deep within his stomach as he thought of the Bastards. This was their fault. If they had never come, she would have been fine. Oh, how he would enjoy desolating them, watching them flee hopelessly beneath him as he rained his rage down upon them.

"How long are you going to sit there like a statue?" He asked suddenly, as a flicker of annoyance was sparked by his anger towards the Bastards.

She did not answer him. She hardly blinked. He narrowed his eyes. No. He most definitely wasn't going to stand for this. He would not allow those parasites ruin her. Standing, he stepped over to her, and she barely had time to blink before he knocked her into the water with his nose. She let out a startled cry as she fell from the boulder and hit the cold water with a small splash, and he peered down as she resurfaced with a cough. Her head snapped up to him as he towered over her, her eyes having widened. Although he was happy to see some life had returned to her, he was still angry and got in her face.

"Snap out of it already!" He snarled at her. "They did not have their way with you. You are alive!"

In response, she grew angry as well and climbed out of the water. "You don't get it!"

"Then explain it to me!"

"Why do you care?" She snapped.

"I prefer anything over this shell of a creature you have become!" He boomed.

She silenced. It had never occurred to her that he would be bothered by her lack of life. If anything, she would have expected him to simply grow bored with her, but apparently that was not the case. Now she could see it in his eyes that he was perturbed. He did not like her acting this way. Not knowing what to say, she decided to answer his question.  
  
"I was banished from my home, Rhysand. The only one I ever knew for three hundred years, and it was because I attempted to save an innocent life. Now once again I find myself without a home. Don't you see? I don't belong anywhere. I have no home. Do you know what that feels like? It is the worst feeling one could ever have to suffer through, knowing that the only reason they were punished was because they wanted to spare life. I don't even know if that hatchling survived to adulthood." She shook her head slowly. "Do you know what that thought does to me? Not knowing if my efforts were wasted or not?"

He was silent. She merely sighed and returned her gaze out into the horizon, her eyes saddened. Her stare was almost wistful. Then suddenly, as he watched her, an idea popped into his head. Y/N was deeply startled when he suddenly grabbed her with his hand, and before she could register what was happening she was dropped onto his back. Shocked, she scrambled to find a grip and steady herself as he moved, turning around on the bank.

"Rhysand, what are you doing?" She exclaimed in vague fright.

Instead of answering her, he blitzed forward, and the next thing she knew they were in the air as she let out a short scream. She watched as the huge wings unfurled on either side of her, and he gave them a few powerful flaps. He didn't go higher just yet, instead skimming the water's surface as he soared down the length of the lake. It wasn't until he felt her relax the slightest bit did he move up. Looking down, she saw the lake was rapidly growing smaller as they climbed the air, and she let out a breath.

"Oh my…"

Higher and higher they climbed, as she listened to his wings against the wind. At this point the lake looked like a mere puddle, as they became level with the mountains. She watched with wide eyes as the land passed by below them, a herd of wild horses galloping away in fear when they saw Rhysand's silhouette in the sky. They looked like ants. It was like looking down at a map of the land, like a marvelous moving painting. It was like nothing she had ever seen before. The wind whipped pass them, causing her hair to flail about gloriously. Without realizing it, she felt herself coming back to life, and along with it came a smile. Gradually, it spread across her face, and she felt herself relax. Carefully, she sat up on Rhysand's back, and she stared out at the breathtaking landscape before her.

She had never felt as alive as she did at that very moment, it having dawned on her that Rhysand had done this for her. He was trying to snap her out of the darkness she had fallen into. Feeling daring, she slowly let go with her hands and sat up straighter, and she lifted her arms up at her sides as an exhilarated cry escaped her lips in one huge burst of adrenaline. A thrilled laugh escaped her throat, and Rhysand glanced back at her as he chuckled quietly. She quickly grabbed onto him again when he gained altitude, and she watched as he climbed the air towards the misty fog surrounding the mountaintops. For a moment she was blinded by the fog, but then they broke through, and the sight she was greeted with would forever be imprinted into her brain.

Some may have thought they had died and gone to Heaven. Surrounding them at all sides were fluffy white clouds, illuminated with a vast array of pinks, oranges, blues, and gold. The misty air acted as a prism, causing multiple tiny rainbows to appear in the air as the sunlight streamed filtered through the clouds in gentle streams. Looking down below, she saw sparkling waters that glistened and shimmered like a thousand tiny jewels, being fed by great the great waterfalls in the mountains. It took her breath away. Eventually Rhysand landed on a cliff connected to one of the waterfalls, and he bowed down so Y/N could jump off. She looked out over the land from another world, nearly unwilling to believe that she had never witnessed something that was so close to where she lived. The land was untouched, rich with green grass, misty waterfalls, and illuminated by the sunset. Below, she could see mountain goats jumping about in the rocks.

"It's so beautiful," she breathed. She looked up at him as if seeing him in a whole new light, as he laid down on the grass, keeping his head up to gaze upon the nirvana. "How did you know about this place?"

"I've flown through many skies, lamb," he answered her.

She shook her head slowly. "It's as if I've entered the heavens."

He was silent for a moment. "Sometimes I still wonder if there others out there… hidden in places like these where no man had ever traveled."

Y/N looked at him to see his eyes were almost nostalgic, and she felt her eyes soften. "If you really are the last of the fire drakes…" He turned his head to her as she spoke, "then I'm relieved I found you in time. As you know, I have a rare love for dragons. Most would scoff at me, but I would be saddened to see the dragons gone forever. Never have I ever seen any creature so grand…. People are so afraid of things that they fail to see the beauty in them. Each scale…" Lifting her hand, she lightly ran her fingertips over the scaled on his chest, "equaling a shield… like an iron mosaic. Wings like sails…" Her eyes shifted up to him when he bowed his head down to her to look at her closely. She smiled. "Eyes deeper than the outer space."

He stared at her for a long time, pondering the impracticality that she could possibly be real. After holding his gaze for awhile, she slowly lifted her hand, but she made no move to touch him. His eyes shifted to her hand, and her smile grew when he moved his nose forward against her palm, marking the first time he had willingly allowed her to touch him aside from caring for his wounds. Y/N smiled softly, bringing her other hand up to rub under his chin like she had the night she'd first met him. It was at that moment she knew she had not made a mistake when she chose to spare his life.

But peace never lasted forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it does not. Rhysand may respect Y/N, but now he can fly. Read and and comment to find out what happens! ;) xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

Y/N had been surprised when a small thrush appeared by her head, its wings flapping rapidly as it zipped around, chirping incoherently. Rhysand turned his head towards the bird, seeming surprised it would willingly come so close to him, and he eyed it suspiciously as it buzzed around Y/N's face like a hummingbird.

"A thrush," she said, with quiet curiosity. "A messenger bird."

"Messenger?" he inquired.

She leaned in to the small creature with attentive eyes. "What is it? What have you come to tell me?"

It fluttered around in front of her, and to Rhysand it looked alarmed, but he did not understand a word the tiny creature was saying. Apparently Y/N could understand just fine, however, and with the way her eyes suddenly widened he realized what the bird had said hadn't been anything good.

"What?" she gasped. "When?"

More chirping.

"How many are there?" she demanded. "How many Bastards?"

That caught Rhysand's attention. In a flash, he was standing bolt upright, startling the thrush momentarily. "What about them?" he hissed venomously.

"They've attacked the Phantom Castle in the Eridanus Mountains!" Y/N exclaimed, she, too, having jumped to her feet, "Your home,..." She whispered, looking away.

His eyes snapped to her. Attacking his home? He felt his blood boil, but before he could get a word in, Y/N was already talking.

"I will help!" she blurted in a panic.

"Don't you think you helped enough?" He asked in complete disbelief.

How could she help with anything?! He thought to himself, exhaling a snort.

"I know it's important to you..."

"Since when did you begin to care?"

"Since you started caring for me!"

He looked down at her. "I don't want you there!"

"I'm not asking you."

"Do you think with your herbs and witchcraft you'd beat them?" There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made her blood run cold. "I must admit, lamb… I'm shocked."

"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE ME!" She boomed, taking him aback. "I can't believe you just said that!"

"What did you think?" He snapped back at her. "That because you saved me I would let you go closer to my home? I remain thankful towards you, but this is an entirely different story! Those Bastards come with Tamlin, and he wants to take from me whats mine. Nothing concerns you!"

"Tamlin? I thought he was a just a myth."

"I'm a myth, lamb," Rhysand purred—the sound like velvet over sharpest steel. " He's just a jerk."

"What does he have to do with you?" She pushed.

_Mistake_

He turned away from her suddenly, and her eyes widened when she realized he was about to spread wing. 

He was going to leave her!

"HEY!" Quickly, she picked up a rock, and she boldly chucked it at his head. It hit its mark, and he released a roar of fury before turning back to her with enraged eyes. "DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HERE!" she screamed.  
She braced herself for whatever horrible thing was about to come her way. But Rhysand merely said, "You're really brave."

She stared at him, and there was something in her eyes that made him pause. Her eyes could have turned the fires of Hell to ice.

"You're right," she said after a moment, and his gaze reflected his surprise. "Why should I help you? After all… all you want to do in the end is to kill me. And how foolish of me to put my life on the line for a fire-breathing dragon, knowing that he is, in fact, a famously merciless killer." Her words dropped in degrees with each syllable she uttered, and she continued, noting the way he went still. "I knew who you were the second I saw you," she continued, voice a cold hiss. "I remember it clear as day… the great and terrible dragon… seeing you weak, bleeding, and helpless on the cold floor of the cave… barely able to lift your head to face me. Rhysand the Nightmare, not even able to conjure up a single spit of flame to ward off a weak little female the size of his eye."

"I could have killed you, Rhysand!" she yelled back at him. "All it would have taken was a simple push against that arrow, and it would have fatally pierced your heart beyond aid. I could have watched you gradually bleed out internally—watching as the life slowly… painfully… drained from your eyes until you were lying dead on the floor of that cave. I knew what horrors you had committed, and I was well aware of what you may do to me and others once I had healed you."

"Then why did you help me?" He murmured, angered by her defiant and taunting words. His eyes glowed bright navy blue, promising punishment if she so much as dared to utter another bold string of mockery in his face.

"Because I'm not like you," she said frigidly, voice having lowered to a low, wintry tone. "I help those who are weak. You may be stronger than me now, Rhysand, but when I found you, you were barely clinging to life. I spared you because you asked me to—even though you did not ask verbally," she said the last part promptly, holding a hand up for silence when he went to interject. "The eyes are what give every creature away."

"You helped me because you were afraid," he sneered.

"I helped you because I saw you needed it!" she yelled. "Just like you defended me from those Bastards! I needed your help!"

He silenced.

"I know you're a dragon. I know what you're capable of! But I also know what else you're capable of."

He snorted. "Are you seriously trying to reach—"

"All I ask of you is stop pushing me away! Help me take revenge on the ones who burned down my home and attempted to rape me!"

He narrowed his eyes at the last part, an unreadable emotion hiding behind dark clouds.

"Please, Rhysand!"

He did not like this at all. His heart felt like it was being torn two ways for the first time in his life.

Meanwhile, the Bastards had reached the Mountain, and clashed with the armies of mortals, raging slaughter that already left many casualties lying unmoving on the battlefield. Tamplin Redthorn did not pass an mortal without impaling it with his blade, cutting down the enemy left and right. At last, after so many eons, he had managed to escape his eternal trap, and search for his revenge. He felt the dragon. He felt his brother was somewhere, coming to stop him. 

As he drove his blade through a wolf's skull, he took a moment to scan his eyes over the battlefield and then at the sky.

"Come, you monster!"

The Mighty Phoenixes let out high-pitched screeches as they snatched Bastards from the ground and tossed them off the cliffs and mountainside, and they fell shrieking to the jagged rocks below. Crimson and black blood stained the grass and hillside as the battle raged on. The Men of the Woods proved worthy of battle with centuries of training for such carnage, brandishing their straight swords proudly as the twin brothers Cassian and Azriel, the last Skinshapers, bravely lead them in battle. Men and phoenixes fought alongside each other in a merciless charge against the enemy.

Then suddenly an outlandishly strong wind billowed over the land, causing the trees to groan and the grass to lash about like whips. The great pines leaned, moaning with the strain against their roots, and a few looked up in question, including Tamlin. His eyes scanned the skies with no fair amount of alarm. Then all at once he heard screams that somehow differed from the piercing cries of the fallen. These were screams of pure fright, and it was at hearing these shrieks of terror that others turned their eyes to the sky. Any who had ever had an encounter with the beasts knew the telltale signs of their arrival—to tell the difference between hurricane and wing wind. The Fireriser felt his stomach turn upside down, as the most terrible dread settled within his gut and froze his blood in his veins.

"Brother."

"DRAGOOONNN!" a voice screamed over them all.

Heads shot up, men and Bastards alike at the announcement, and Tamlin stared in utter satisfaction as the beast came flying overhead from above the pines, wings causing a fierce wind in his wake. Many came to a standstill as they watched in barefaced terror and awe, as the dragon soared overhead.

"NO!" Bastards shrieked around.

Y/N scanned the ground below with keen, narrowed eyes from her position seated on Rhysand's shoulders. Bastards continued to pile in from over the hill, brandishing malevolent scimitars and catapults of flame. Just looking at them made her blood boil with uncontainable hate. As she witnessed the sight of fallen innocent men, her gentle nature was eliminated completely, and she gave Rhysand's shoulder a firm pat to gain his full attention.

"What do you say to butchering some bloody Bastards?" She asked, with a cold enthusiasm.

He smiled back at her. With a great flap of his wings, he rounded about across the battlefield to where the Bastards were piling in. He landed his feet against the mountain side, and with his immense strength he ripped free a huge boulder before taking off towards the hill. Once he was clear for all of them, he released his grip, sending the boulder plummeting downwards on top of the Bastards. They screeched and knocked each other over in their scramble to get away, and as the massive rock hit the ground many of them were knocked off their feet from the impact. It rolled, taking out many more as it went, and they rounded back over the field. Rhysand's wings alone knocked others off their feet, as he snatched them from the ground with his claws, much like the phoenixes, while Y/N shot her bow and arrow from atop his back. The men, having had no choice but to continue fighting, watched on in a mixture of fear and confusion, wondering as to why the great dragon was not attacking them as well.

Arrows shot passed them as Bastards fired their bows, aiming for both Y/N and Rhysand. She was shielded by his body, however, and their arrows were useless against Rhysand's impenetrable armor. He let out dark laugh at their sad attempts.

"That's rich!" He purred ecxitedly.

"Rhysand!" Y/N called over the volume of his wings. When she saw him glance back at her, she yelled, "Take out the fire catapults!"

"I'll do more than take them out." Swooping down, the Bastards surrounding the catapults flee like ants as the dragon assaulted them with clawed feet. Gripping one between his toes, he ripped it from its post and used his bodyweight to turn in the air and throw it over the battlefield. As it landed, its fired erupted in a burst of flames, torching the enemy. During this maneuver, his back was exposed during the turn, and Y/N barely dodged an arrow that was shot at her. This did not go unnoticed by Rhysand, and he turned about with an angered snarl.

"Never mind them!" Y/N shouted.

"He's here! I can feel him!" Setting her bow over her shoulder, she reached back and removed her blades.

Silence.

"Rhysand what are you-PLANNING!!!!"

"Hold on tight!" Growling, he took a steep swoop towards the ground, and Bastards ducked sharply to avoid being hit by his belly as he flew overhead. "We're gonna fight as many as we can."

"So be it!"

The moment he was low, Y/N decided to leapt from his back, flipping in the air as she brought forth her blades. She lashed her arms out upon landing, beheading two Bastards in the process, and then cutting down two more in her path after she was on her feet. Others had watched in amazement as the She-Elf jumped from the dragon's shoulders, some staring after the dragon in obvious confusion. Rhysand watched confused as Y/N disappeared into the crowd, blades swinging as their ring blended in with the others. If she was harmed, it would not just be the Bastards who suffered his wrath. Blowing a puff of air from his nostrils, he turned back to his slaughter with an even greater intensity, searching for his sly brother.

Y/N ran up a boulder as she brought her bow from behind her back, and she leapt off with a fierce battle cry, firing an arrow into the skull of a Bastard. She landed in a summersault, where she cut off a few at the knees, basking in their cries of pain as onlookers speculated between swings of their own. Her motions were fluid as water, looking as if she were dancing a ballet as she turned and twisted, blades swinging with lethal grace. Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched from afar by a pair of stormy green eyes.

Tamlin had witnessed the Elven woman leap from his brother's back, and he was left staring in awe whenever he gained the chance to glance her way. He hadn't known what to think when he saw her perched on Rhysand's shoulders whilst shooting arrows at their foe, a possibly even fiercer hatred in her eyes for the Bastards that Rhysand himself had. It had become apparent to him that she was the cause for the dragon attacking where the Bastards were piling in, but why would Rhysand listen to her? Did she have him under some sort of spell? He wasn't the only one gawking at the female Elf. Atop the hill she was gradually making her way towards, an Elvenqueen was watching her with equal disbelief, a look of shock consuming her honey eyes. Y/N did not notice her as she arrived at the top of the hill, cutting down a Bastard that ran at her and sending his lifeless corpse toppling down the slope.

"Y/N!" She called to her sharply.

She whipped about, and when her eyes met the Elvenqueen's, her lips parted in disbelief. "Lady Morrigan!"

"What are you doing here?" She exclaimed loudly in the Elven tongue.

"A thrush alerted me to the war. I'm here to help the innocent." She smiled at the glorious woman. A threat—for beauty and power and dominance. But all the Morrigan had time to do was blink at her before they were assaulted by another slew of Bastards.

Many of them had begun to flee, mainly because of Rhysand's unbeatable fury, but also because their numbers had begun to dwindle dangerously due to the combined forces of the other armies. Y/N looked towards the sky and brought her fingers to her mouth to emit a loud whistle. Her call was answered a moment later, as one of the majestic phoenixes swooped down, and she leapt onto its back. Her dark waves whipped wildly in the wind, her eyes dark and filled with a strangely beautiful bloodlust as she cleared the Bastards around the field.   
For a moment Morrigan found herself admiring her, but Y/N suddenly turned her head over her shoulder and yelled:

"Rhysand!"

The phoenix gained altitude, and the next thing they were aware of Rhysand was flying passed, the wind of his wings nearly knocking them off their feet. Y/N leapt from the phoenix's back and landed below on his, and he swiftly carried her off.

Y/N peered down to where the twin brothers fought side by side, watching as the short-haired one stared up at her with wondering eyes. "We have to help them!" She called to Rhysand. Silence. "If we don't help them, I'll jump off your back again!"

Releasing a roar of fury, he turned back. Fine. If she wanted him to save them he would, but that didn't mean he would be nice after that. A vast clearing formed as he landed before Azriel and his brother—all except of the few warriors behind them, who ran forward to his aid. Their expressions morphed into disbelief as they witnessed the She-Elf atop the great dragon.

"Come!" She called them. "Hurry!"

Not one of them moved.

"Why should we trust you?" Azriel yelled at her.

"You have five seconds!" Rhysand boomed at them, before Y/N could so much as think of an answer.

"Bloody hell, why not!" Cassian exclaimed, and he was the first to run forward and climb on. The others almost immediately followed, knowing they did not have much of a choice aside from death. Azriel, who was the last to board, barely had time to find a grip before Rhysand was taking back to the air. He landed upon the front entrance to the Phantom Castle, and the moment his feet touched the ground the men leapt off, not wanting to stay on longer than they had to. They quickly backed away from the massive dragon in caution, watching as Y/N descended from his shoulders. Rhysand then came to stand at the edge of the cliff, and he released a deafening roar, its volume so great that shook the land below. The war abruptly came to a standstill, a thousand heads snapping up towards the dragon in a mixture of terror and alarm.

"ENOUGH!" Rhysand boomed. "TAMLIN! SHOW YOURSELF!"

The roar of battle had ceased completely as if death had claimed them all, Bastards, men, and even phoenixes having frozen to stare up at Rhysand with large eyes. Not one dared to speak against this massive foe. Rhysand emitted a low growl, his huge bulk casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. Behind him, Azriel tilted his head curiously at him.

"Rhysand."

Y/N's head snapped back at the sudden appearence of Tamlin behind them at the same moment Rhysand's did, only her eyes read alarm while Rhysand's read fury.

"Rhysand—" Y/N attempted to talk him down, but he merely stepped over her and slowly stalked towards his brother, much like a panther stalking its prey just before it pounced.

"I know why you're here, but you're not gonna take her," he said lowly.

Y/N's eyes widened, and as she watched the group of men slowly back up—and the bloodlust in Rhysand's eyes—she knew that if she didn't do something now they were all going to die. Almost without thinking, she dashed forward just as Rhysand opened his jaws, and she threw herself in front of Tamlin right as Rhysand was about to clamp his jaws down. Even the least of the wise knew not to step in-between a dragon and his victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan is not his cousin... Cass and Az are twins... Tamlin and Rhysand are blood brothers... Feyre doesn't exist... where the hell is Amren?!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your attention! I'm so happy you are enjoying it. Keep it that way! x0x0x

Y/N was positive her heart had stopped when those huge jaws snapped shut a mere two inches from her face, stopping just in time to avoid crushing her. Her heart hammered in her chest as adrenaline rocketed through her veins, eyes wide as he drew back in surprise and rage.

"Y/n! Why?!" He roared, and she felt her ears ringing.

She didn't move, keeping herself firmly before the Pure Evil. She didn't speak, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, even as he growled menacingly in her face. Behind her, she could feel hands gripping her tightly, and she knew they were just as terrified as she was. Yet the fatal strike never came. Flaming, angry orbs stared down at her with nothing short of fury, but something had stopped him. Something was holding him back. For the first time, her eyes showed the faint signs of fear when looking at him. He didn't know which made his anger rise more—the fact she was standing before him, unreasonably, or that she was afraid of him.

"You two are gonna kill us all! This is not a place for your family drama! This planet is not ready for a destruction!"

Shaking his head, he emitted a loud sound of frustration, and then all at once he was swiftly stepping over them. They ducked to avoid being hit, and their heads turned as he stalked towards the entrance of the Castle. The men exchanged confused looks, but Y/N held up a finger to her lips as a warning for them to keep quiet.  
Turning his head, Tamlin looked after Rhysand as he disappeared into the Phantom Castle, and he was about to go follow him, but a hand on his arm stopped him short. Looking, he was met with Y/N's firm gaze. 

"I don't know the reason why you're here, but if you don't want you and your Bastards to die, you should better leave," she said mutedly, her voice stern. No matter who he was, he've done enough.

Amazed by her, Tamlin watched after her silently as she slowly walked after Rhysand. 

Tamlin remained silent, uninterest by the present men, his eyes solidly trained on where the dragon and the Elf had walked. 

Overcome with hatred, he felt his breathing quicken as his anger rose. Who was the She-Elf? Why did she appear to have allegiance with Rhysand? He did not know, but for that reason alone he despised her. He despised everyone.

Tamlin abruptly strode towards the entrance. No one dared to say or do anything.

Stealthily, he entered the Castle and dove behind one of the large pillars lining the great hall. They were still in the hall, which shined brilliantly with its silver pavement. Carefully, he edged closer, remaining hidden as he listened. Rhysand still looked furious as he towered over the Elven woman standing before him, glowering down at her with a stare that could froze the whole world.

"You do not have power over me, Elf!" He said, annoyed.

"I do not seek to overpower you, Rhysand," she replied, and Tamlin was amazed at how calm she was. Even a blind could notice her fearlessness.

"You made me look like a fool!"

"Then you shouldn't have attacked! I know you and Tamlin have a history, but even you can't deny that you would have done the same thing if you had been in his position. After all he is your brother.."

"You know nothing!"

"You are the only one left of your kind! And he is maybe the last one related to you."

He released a mocking snort. "Don't tell me you are trying to reach me?"

"Do you never grow bored? Seek a greater purpose?"

"What do you expect? Give him a pat on the shoulder and forget our past?" He challenged. "He's the true evil, Y/N! Open your eyes!" 

"Maybe he needs a second chance!"

He scoffed at her.

"Tamlin has never done any good. I have watched him destroy people. Good people! My own kin has suffered from his hands!" He reasoned in a simple voice.

She made an exclamation of sadness.

"Honestly, what did you expect would happen?" He exclaimed.

"I expected you to have some honor!" She shouted. "I did not heal you to act so primary!"  
  
"I'm an animal, Y/N!" he growled back.

"You're more than that!" She shouted incredulously. "I've seen your other side, and let me tell you, it has nothing to do with this one!"

He released a furious roar, teeth exposing themselves impressively as he shoved her back with his hand. Even then she did not back down.

"Kill me!" She yelled defiantly, as he dangerously loomed over her. Her eyes were fierce. "Kill me! Go on!"

He glowered down at her, but although his eyes promised death, death never came. His jaws did not clamp down on her, nor did he crush her between his claws. Merely, he just glare down at her, silently seething. Tamlin watched the baffling display before him in utter disbelief, when Rhysand suddenly sniffed in her face and stepped over her, heading deeper into the Castle.

"Rhysand!" Rolling over, Y/N hastily got to her feet, and Tamlin was left shaking his head in incredulity as she took off after the dragon. "Rhysand!" When he did not address her, anger flashed across her soft features. "Why did you save me from being raped by those Bastards?" she shouted.

He froze. Tamlin's eyes grew wide with shock.

"I mean, why even bother?" Y/N continued forebodingly.

Rhysand turned his head to look back at her. Her eyes were cold, but another emotion lingered as well. Hurt. When he did not offer an explanation, she bit her bottom lip and nodded.  
  
"Right. I should have known. I was yours, correct? Your entertainment? No one can kill me but you?"

Suddenly anger flashed in his eyes, and he turned, striding up to her. "Mind your tongue, lamb," he warned her lowly.

Without any warning, her arms dropped from her chest, and she made a swift turn. He was clearly taken off guard.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

"Somewhere I'm appreciated. Frankly, I'm tired of losing everything for creatures who could care less about me," she answered coldly.

"Y/N!" He snarled after her.

She kept walking without pause nor flinch, never missing a beat. She didn't get far, though, because the next moment he was cutting her off.

"Stop!"

"I am not one of your possessions!" She screamed back up at him.

She went to walk once more, but she was stopped by his hand when he held it out in front of her, blocking her path. Her head snapped up to him angrily, but then she paused. Something in his eyes had stopped her.

"If you were a possession, we would not be having this conversation."

Her lips parted the smallest of fractions, and the anger seemed to disappear from her eyes, but before she could say anything he turned away from her. She watched silently as he walked down the great hall, and he climbed up into the large hole in the wall before disappearing from sight. She was left staring after him in silence, still in shock from his response. Because of this, she did not take immediate notice of the men as they cautiously entered the hall, or how Tamlin stepped out from his hiding spot and strode up to her.

"You don't know anything, do ya," he mocked her.

She turned to him sharply, and as she registered what he said her eyes grew an angry spark. "Tamlin, I presume?" She greeted curtly.

"You have no right to be here," he spat at her. "You have no right to stand between me and my brother."

"That doesn't mean you have the right to kill everyone!" She fired back at him.

"Do you even know who are we, stupid Elf?! We're Gods, and you are nothing compared to us!"

"Then why am I still standing? Why are any of us still standing?" She challenged him. "Why did he fly all this way with me upon his shoulders and only attack Bastards scum? Why are YOU alive, Tamlin?!"

At a speed shockingly fast, he suddenly shot forward, and before she could react he was striking her to the ground. Quick as lightning, the men were on him, but with a swift move of his hand they hit the both walls. 

Y/N merely glared up at him with ice cold eyes, her face hard. Then suddenly, they were all alerted to a thunderous roar. The first thing they were aware of was the sound of concrete being slammed into, and then their heads abruptly snapped up towards the large hole in the wall behind Y/N. Rhysand came plowing through the next second, and the men hastily backed away in alarm. They watched as he slowly slunk down from the wall, eyeing Tamlin with a predatory gaze, and then he looked down at Y/N. A frown fell across his features when he saw her on the floor. She stared up at him with wide eyes, and it was then something caught his eye. Eyes narrowing, he leaned in closer, ignoring her confused expression as he studied a small mark on her cheek. His gaze lingered there for a moment, before it shifted over to his brother, his scowl deepened when he saw Tamlin's frown, just as prominent. That was when it clicked, and it must have shown in his eyes because fear flashed over the men's.

"Rhysand, don't!" Y/N cried, having also seen the rage that flared in his gaze.

But her words fell on deaf ears, and she was powerless as he burst forward. Tamlin found himself caught beneath Rhysand's hand like a mouse. Y/N scrambled to her feet as the dragon gradually increased the pressure of his hand until his brother was gasping beneath him, writhing in a desperate attempt to free himself. She ran up to his front in a panic, waving her arms to gain his attention.

"Rhysand, leave him be! I'm fine—"

"I spared your life for one reason only, Tamlin," Rhysand sneered, ignoring her completely. "Call it paying off a debt. But I think I can find another way." Rumbling deep in his throat, he slowly leaned closer so he was a menacing few inches from Tamlin's face. "Now that I think of it… I don't know what I was thinking allowing you to live."

"Rhysand!" Y/N shrieked in terror as he opened his jaws wide.

Tamlin's eyes flew wide as he stared down Rhysand's throat, but then something happened that none of them would ever forget. Without any warning, a bright light had flooded the room, and they all threw their arms up to shield their eyes with shouts as it grew with intensity to the point everything had gone completely white. Y/N, too, had turned away as the brightness caused her eyes to water. Rhysand's jaws had shut abruptly, eyes also squeezing shut against the blinding light, and before they knew it they were being swallowed.

Tamlin had felt Rhysand's hand lift off him, and he quickly rolled away despite the pain he felt in his stomach and ribs from being pressed into the gold-paved floor. There was the sound of a heavy weight hitting the floor, and they were knocked off their feet when it caused the ground to shake. Y/N managed to grab hold of one of the pillars, holding fast. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the light began to die down. Cautiously, one by one, they lowered their shields from their eyes, peeking around for the source of the bizarre disturbance. Then, one by one, they all froze, all their eyes trained on the ground a few feet in front of Tamlin. Y/N stared, forest green eyes having widened as her lips slowly parted.

"Rhysand…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uhhmmmm, REALLY REALLY SORRY, GUYS! I haven't posted in... FOREVER?? *takes deep breath* I am so very very incredibly deeply sincerely apologetic for my late, tardy update and I will hereby ensure that I will post more readily and not as late. Many things had happened in my life that I wasn't ready for, but I keep my head up. Trying to find myself.
> 
> P.S. ... Sorry again!♥

Y/N was the first to respond, running forward and pushing her way through the others in haste. She walked straight passed Tamlin, whose eyes remained glued to Rhysand in absolute shock. They all barely moved an inch as she knelt by Rhysand's non-standart form.  
A movement caught the corner of her eye, and she lifted her head in alert. 

"Morrigan!" She exclaimed.

Azriel took a step forward. "What have you done?" he asked, having recovered from his shock for the most part.

"It looks to me like I just saved all your lives; though, I am not too sure as to why," She replied curtly.

"Well, it is nice to know there are such spells," Tamlin mocked. "You don't know what a foolish thing you've done."

Y/N had been kneeling next to Rhysand's body, when his eyes had suddenly snapped open, causing her to retract herself—startled. Rhysand couldn't have been more confused if he'd woken up in the cave. Blinking, he stared up at the woman who have knelt beside him, who he realized was Y/N, but she looked different. It was after another moment or so that he realized he was looking up at her. Y/N saw it in his eyes that he had come to some sort of realization of what had happened, and she winced before jumping to her feet in alarm. She backed up a few feet as she began to move, and she swiftly turned to usher the warriors back with haste. They did, putting a fair distance between themselves and Rhysand as he clumsily staggered to his feet. At first he was horribly uncoordinated, as he looked around at his surroundings with wide eyes.

Everything was huge, as if he was staring through a magnifying glass. The ceiling seemed to stretch up for miles, and he stumbled back a bit as he peered upwards. His whole body felt unnaturally light, causing him to fumble with his movements as he stepped about on uncoordinated legs like a newborn colt. He jumped when he felt a hand on him, and he whipped about sharply.

"Steady, Rhysand!" Y/N said, eyeing him warily.

He stared at her wide-eyed at seeing she was standing just three heads shorter than him. Her eyes were large and cautious, her hands held up before her like a person trying to calm a spooked animal. A quick glance behind her at the men made him freeze where he was, his already wide eyes growing even more in size. Even they were bigger than they were before, staring at him like he had sprouted two extra heads. That was when he lost it.

"Who am I?"

"Go outside!" Y/N ordered the party, and they hastily did as she said without complaint nor argument. 

Tamlin mumbled, "We need to talk soon," before he dissappeared into the nothing.

She approached him slowly, wary despite his humanized form. Downsized or not, he was still the size of a huge werebear with two equally powerful wings, strong tail, razor sharp claws at his hands, and a mouthful of human teeth. He was yelling at Morrigan, demanding to be changed back as Y/N continued her attempts to calm him down.

"Rhysand, easy—easy! Shhh—hey!" Taking a chance, she took a daring step closer to him and grabbed his head in her hands by gripping the two large horns on his forehead to keep him steady. This stilled him momentarily, and he stopped fidgeting as her voice reached his ears pointed ears, speaking to him in the Elven tongue. Her voice was calm and soothing, and he found himself listening despite his rage and panic. When he had stilled enough, she had rested her forehead against his, her hand moving to caress his agonisingly soft hair.

"Easy. Your heart is still tender. Relax, Rhysand… relax…"

  
The twin brothers and their warriors turned their heads to see Y/N walking towards them, unharmed but strict in the eyes. Azriel was the first to stride up to her, his own eyes containing the obvious desire to grab her by her pretty throat, but before he could so much as open his mouth to speak she had her blade out and held across his throat. He froze when he felt the cool metal touch his jugular, but she made no move to make a lethal blow.

"I suggest you keep your voices down; for if I can hear you so can he," Y/N said, her voice foreboding.

"Why does he show you lenience?" Azriel demanded. "Are you a bloody witch?"

She shifted her eyes to his coldly. "Maybe it's the reason I haven't insisted on humiliating him or shot a black arrow through his chest," she purred, a bit scornfully.

"The beast deserved it!" growled Cassian.

Her eyes snapped to him sharply. "What part of keep your voice down is so hard for you to understand?"

"Are you his pet or something?" asked Azriel.

"I am not his, nor he mine," she answered evenly. "I came to aid my kin in this ridiculous battle. He had a score to settle with the Bastards, as did I."

"It appears more than that to me," he sneered.

Scoffing, she removed her blade from his throat. "I don't really care what you think of me, to be quite honest." She nodded back to the mountain. "You may go home now. I suggest you tend to your wounds and clean yourselves up."

"Where is Rhysand?" Asked one of the men.

"He's gone to the upper towers of the mountain. As you can assume, he is under a bit of stress. If I were you, I would consider it a blessing he hasn't run out to kill all of you."

"Which you have done a miracle of a job keeping him from doing." Cassian stepped forward and gave her a small nod. "You have all of my gratefulness, lass."

Y/N eyed him carefully.

  
Y/N walked slowly through the halls of the mountain in search of Rhysand. She found the dragon - now human - towards the top of the mountain, laying in the opening of one of the stakeout ledges. The scales of his glorious wings shimmered gently in the glow of the setting sun, eyes scanning over the land with a hawk-like vigilance. A quiet puff left his nostrils, eyes shifting back at the sound of her footsteps, and he turned his head as she approached. Just by looking at him, her blood thrummed. 

Fascinating...

_Dangerous territory; more lethal than the drop below!_

"Don't look so shamed. You're still a force to be reckoned with."

All she received in response was a dark, withering stare, and he turned his head back forward. Stepping forth, she stood beside his shoulder and looked out over the land briefly.

"Remember what I said to you when you asked why I spared you?"

He looked down at her.

"True courage is knowing, now when to take a life, but when to spare one." Her eyes held soft wisdom, but he could have sworn he saw a twinge of pride. "You didn't kill them. You helped me. I still don't know why you did it… but thank you, Rhysand."

The way she was looking at him was like nothing he had ever seen before, and he realized she was proud of him. Amongst her pride lingered traces of relief and gratitude as well. He didn't speak, not quite sure what to say.

"Your wings - they're much better like that." 

All of a sudden she reached forward and her knuckles brushed one of his wings—smooth and cool like silk, but, hard as stone with it stretched taut. She dared to run a fingertip along some inner edge.

Rhysand stood insantly before her, mere inches from her delicate body.

A soft groan slipped past her ear. “That,” He said tightly, “is indecent.”

She snatched her finger back, pulling away far enough to see his face. With the wind, Y/N had to squint. He was entirely focused on the mountains around them.

“You feel lust, Rhysand?”

He flicked his gaze to her, then to the stone and pine that went on forever. “I don't know what I feel, Y/N. I don't even know who I am anymore."

Y/N’s throat bobbed—slightly.

"Some of your instincts, form and traits are gone. But, other than that, you're still the same."

"No. In that form, I'm one of those creatures I call my _preys_."

His raw voice... Y/N's heart melted.

His mouth tightened, yet his eyes were blazing bright. "And you, Y/N. You are in a greater danger now."

Her blood iced over.

"What does that mean?" She asked warilly.

Her breasts tightened, becoming full and heavy, aching—aching like what was now pooling in her core. Heat filled her face, her blood.

Rhysand said at last, as if his own self-control slipped the leash, "The dragon nature is much different from the human one. We don't breed. We don't notice some things," His gaze settled on her, on her breasts, "But as human..." A near-silent growl left him. "I find you irresistible. Even more than that - for the most precious gem."


	11. Chapter 11

Beneath the moonlight glow, the furniture in her room stood with a quiet calm, except only for the thin, translucent tulles. A silent shower was pouring down the bed, the walls, the mirror that depicted Y/N like a portrait. Never in her life had she owned a mirror. Nor a king-sized bed.  
She did not think, did not want to think. Yes, for what was she to think? After Rhysand came to mind, another memory was awakened: she felt his breath on hir skin, his lips quivering with a fiery kiss as he leaned in, dying to kiss her neck with a biting touch. Then she followed him leaving through the doorway and sinking in the shadows of the halls.  
Her thoughts came to a pause. It was as if the current of her ideas was wavering, hesitating whether to follow another course. In order not to stop at this point, and not to follow this new way, she tried to distance this memory with a single word.  
"Nightmare," she said out loud.  
Yes, it was nothing but nightmare, in every sense of the word. She was furious.   
"My life is not real. What kind of thing can show me this is not a dream?" As she asked herself this question, she wrung her hands in the dark, and waited for an answer from the dark room, from the maple suite, from the satin curtains, from all the ostentatious furniture.   
Love, she wanted to love. Love would show her the way. That was all she lacked in life; but love was all. To love, yes, all happiness could only be gained through it. A small, sordid, bare room, an iron bedstead, white curtains, two cane chairs, a chamber for loving composed of just these. But to love! She wanted to love. Now in the riches of this splendid room, she felt as though she had been buried alive in a tomb of black marble. She could not breathe, she was suffocating; she wanted to escape this grave, to live, to love.  
In this room of hers, that was reminiscent of a fairy realm, far away in its vague lights, in the distance, as if deepening layer by later, in the horizon of a cave, she saw the Y/N that seemed to approach her in the form of a vision, that mirror Y/N. A woman etched only in white on a frosty silver panel, who one might suppose would slip out of her thin silk shirt and fly, and become a cloud. One cannot know with what feeling she wished to see this body that appeared to shiver in its thin shirt, naked, completely naked. She undid the ribbons at her shoulders, and the shirt, sliding, with a slight hesitation across her breast and hips, fell at her feet. She held her long black hair with an impatient gesture of her hands, and twisted it, pulling it up because she did not want it to mar her full nakedness, and pinned it in a disorderly knot. In this fashion, completely naked, she regarded herself.  
She gazed a long while at this tableau. She had never seen herself like this; this was something new, like a new body. So this was Y/N. She was afraid to draw near, did not wish to see too clearly; if she looked closer, it would become obvious that the vision was her twin. She wanted to remain distant, and enjoy this beautiful body from afar.  
Now, standing motionless, looking at herself with an absent gaze, a smile from her eyes was tracing this vague line, that little dent above her lip was like a quivering shadow, one side of her mouth was slightly lifted to reveal the tip of few teeth. She was laughing at herself, at her own primitive foolishness, condemned to remain unused, she felt like crying. So after this, yes, this very night, the youthful rebellion of her body, yet unwon after a year’s onslaught, would keep appearing, her sore spirit, desiring to be loved, to be intoxicated in embraces, would thus molest her, brush her, and these beauties would be annihilated, writhing in empty ambitions…  
So she judged herself, and her eyes, laughing but wanting to cry, saw this beautiful vision with its beauty needlessly doomed to rot, wilting in hopeless aspirations, and engulfed it with a feeling of profound compassion.  
Suddenly, in this semi-dark room, amid the slumbering silence of this castle, as the game between light and shadows seemed to enliven the furniture around her with an unfelt breeze, she shivered to find herself so naked, and feared the loneliness. No, this was such an emotion that it was closer to shame than to fear. She was ashamed, as if she had done a great wrong, ashamed that she had sinned unthinkingly against her virtue. She had fallen into the arms of an unknown lover who entered the privacy of her chamber secretly, and her first sin of passion had been committed in an irresistible nervous trembling.  
Under the shadows of the billowing curtains, a pair of eyes looked at her; hands that had manifested in the night’s darkness were opening the blinds to watch this woman’s body after its first sin of passion; this piece of furniture woke with a sudden air of life.  
She was in bed now. Y/N had thrown herself into bed in that state. She had snaked her hands under the pillow, placed her head upon it, and was lying down. Before her, she saw that vision again, a little vaguer, a little further engulfed in shadows, now another body; it was calling this more attractive body with a supplicating smile.  
She had never felt anything like this in her life, had not felt the agony of an ardour that made her whole body ache. In fact, all the romantic dreams were comprised of clouds drawn with vague outlines.


End file.
